


Boys of Summer

by threeplusfire



Series: Filthy Money [4]
Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: BDSM, Breathplay, M/M, Multi, Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 07:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5119583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeplusfire/pseuds/threeplusfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ll send the car on Wednesday morning to take you to the airport,” Sips said, in the decisive tone of someone very used to getting what he wanted. - The unexpected trip out of town seems like a perfect chance to escape the sweltering summer heat. But not everyone can relax, even in paradise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys of Summer

**Author's Note:**

> This was a very long in the making, but I think the result is worth it. I started out writing my wish fulfillment fantasy of a summer vacation. Over the past few months this story grew into something more much complex and beautiful. 
> 
> Many thanks to Leon and Bee for reading early drafts and offering endless encouragement and inspiration. I hope you know how much you mean to me.
> 
> Title inspired by Don Henley's classic song "The Boys of Summer."

When their receptionist asked for two weeks off in August, Chris Trott gave her the entire month. Her dazzling smile had convinced him this was the best possible idea. But as soon as she’d cleared her desk, and vanished out the door for her trip to someone else’s beach house, his grumpiness returned. Everyone had somewhere to go for the summer, except them. Even most of their business contacts were out of the office - on summer holidays with their children or their mistresses, ensconced at beaches up and down the east coast or drifting aimlessly around the Mediterranean. 

But for HatVentures, recently rebranded for their expanding lines of work, it was only the sweltering city and faulty air conditioning. The central air system only half worked, so the office felt like a lukewarm hell by the time the morning light left their windows. They left the lights off half the time during the day, hoping maybe the gloom would make the office feel just a little bit cooler. It wasn’t helping this Monday feel any less like a Monday. Their landlord was on vacation too, apparently, because no one from the property management office had returned their calls from last week about the problem.

“What do you mean, you gave her the rest of the month off?” Smith’s voice rose, almost a shout. He’d shed the tie almost immediately this morning. 

“Lower your voice,” Trott snapped. “And exactly what I said - I gave her the rest of the month off.”

“But…” Smith gritted his teeth and threw his hands up. “Why are we even here then?”

“Because there’s still work to do, Smith.”

Smith grumbled something, and stalked out to make another cup of coffee. Leaning on his desk, Ross didn’t look up from his cup. Trott sighed, and flipped open his laptop. Definitely Monday, and he just wished everyone would get on with it.

“Are you paying her for the month off?” Smith continued, stomping back in with his mug. 

“I’m not a total asshole, Smith, she’s getting paid.”

“She’s getting paid not to be here?”

“Well she’s certainly not getting paid enough, and it’s not like we can afford to get her insurance… look what the fuck do you want from me?”

“I want to at least get the time off our bloody secretary gets!”

“If you wanted a comprehensive benefits package you should have taken that offer from Empire when you graduated,” Trott said, pushing away from the desk.

“What if we didn’t come in for a couple days?” Ross broke into the conversation, trying to sound reasonable about it. He gave Trott a look, eyes pleading for a compromise. He hated these arguments, which had only gotten worse as August dragged on hot and miserable.

“To do what, sit around our apartment and do all the work?” Smith rolled his eyes, voice thick with sarcasm. “You know that’s what would happen.”

“Don’t be mad at me, at least there would be air conditioning-” Ross half turned, ready to throw a pen across the desk.

“You both knew starting this company meant we’d be working for less.” Trott’s voice rose, exasperated. “You knew this would be hard, that we would have to work even more than a big office.”

“I just think we could all use a day off,” Ross said, frowning. 

“I didn’t think I would never get to have a vacation day again,” Smith grumbled. Trott smacked his hand against the desk, startlingly loud. Ross flinched at the sound.

“I’ve had it with your complaining! Go work in the damn conference room, I can’t get anything done with you like this!” Trott pointed at the door, his voice rising into a shout.

There was a beat of silence. Trott felt his pulse throb in his temple. It was too early to be this irritable.

“Come on,” Ross said, grabbing his laptop. Smith opened his mouth like he wanted to argue more, but Trott had already turned away. He slipped on a pair of headphones, signaling the conversation was over as far as he was concerned. Ross gave him a look, half annoyed and half sympathetic. Irritable and muttering under his breath, Smith swept up the stack of files from his desk to follow Ross out the door.

 

* * *

 

Trott stretched his arms over his head with a quiet groan. The calendar on the desk was largely empty. They didn’t have any meetings scheduled until September.  Rolling his shoulders, he trudged across the reception area. Beyond the tiny kitchenette and bathroom, they had two offices. One they used as a conference room for meetings, and the other, larger space held all their desks. 

In the conference room, Ross and Smith were seated at the large table. Papers were spread out between them, and Ross was entering something into his laptop. Smith was stacking paper copies of their invoices, complaining about whatever regulation required them to keep their financials available in multiple formats in case of audits. The blinds were cracked, letting in a little slanted light that left stripes over the table.

“How far are you?” asked Trott, leaning on the door.

“Most of the way,” Ross answered from where he hunched over his laptop. His jacket hung from the back of a chair. Trott watched him for a moment, but Ross didn’t look up. A sliver of guilt wormed into Trott’s thoughts, watching Ross so carefully and deliberately work without speaking. He hated it when Ross got silent, and knew they were both miserable about the yelling now. Smith had unbuttoned his shirt, the sleeves rolled up and jacket crumpled into an untidy heap on the table. He glanced over at Trott, and then looked away. He made far less of an effort to appear busy, and instead pointedly watched Ross. It was as close as Smith would get to a rebuke here in the office, and it pained Trott to think that he was right. 

Trott nodded, and headed for the kitchenette. He washed his hands, hoping the cool water would help. He eyed the mini fridge, wondering if they had anything cold to drink. He felt off kilter, his stomach sour. The nagging sense of shame at his behavior lingered in the back of his mind. Trott wondered how to apologize without making too much of it, and making Ross even more uncomfortable. There were things he just didn’t like to talk about.

His cell phone jingled, and Trott quickly dried his hands before pulling it out. He frowned at the caller ID.

“What are you guys doing?” Sips asked. Trott strained to hear him over the background noise.

“Working,” Trott answered, his voice a little short. But he smiled privately, leaning on the counter. “Unlike you, apparently.”

“No one works in August, Trott.” He heard the sound of Sips beeping the horn of his utterly ridiculous car. Trott imagined him, driving with the top down up the interstate to escape the city for some shaded house further north.

“Apparently not.” Trott sighed. “We’re just catching up on invoices and shit.”

“Seriously I think you’re the only people in town who are actually in the office right now.”

“What are you doing?”

“Driving to the airport, like a sane person who does not spend August sweltering in this hellhole of a city.”

“Hamptons? Montauk? Bermuda?” Trott rattled off his guesses, trying to imagine Sips in country club attire on the porch of some enormous house.

“Fuck all that old money nonsense,” Sips snorted. “I’m a socially undesirable element, and I don’t play golf.”

“So what, you fly to Canada or something?”

“Nah, Fiji, I got a place out there. Though there is a place in Canada I was thinking about...”

Trott closed his eyes, making a face. Of course Sips would own a place in Fiji, of all the fucking places. He pinched his nose, willing himself not to say anything overly sarcastic or envious. 

“...Anyways, you guys should come.”

“What?” Trott dropped his hand and tried to figure out what he’d missed, zoning out on the conversation.

“Yeah, it’s a big house and there’s plenty of room,” Sips said. “Not like you’re going to do anything for the next week or two, right?”

“As much as we’d love to fuck off for the rest of the month,” Trott began. Smith chose that moment to stick his head around the corner.

“Trott, look-” He dropped to a whisper when Trott waved a hand at him, and pointed at the phone. “Who is that?”

“Sips,” Trott mouthed silently. Smith’s face lit up with a mischievous grin.

“Hey Sips!” he practically shouted, leaning forward. 

“Damn it, Smith,” Trott growled. He heard Sips laugh on the other end.

“That boy,” Sips said, a fond note in his voice. “He’s probably making you crazy, isn’t he?”

“That he is,” Trott agreed grimly, watching Smith take the last cold bottle of water out of the fridge. He wondered if walking to Starbucks would feel better or worse than sweltering in here. At least they had ice there. Maybe he’d get them all drinks, an apology for raising his voice earlier. 

“So, come on out.” Sips shifted the phone, and Trott heard the car door slam, and the sound of Sips talking to someone. 

“That’s a pretty long flight,” Trott hedged. He didn’t even want to think about how much it would cost. They were doing pretty well, and he thought they’d end the year in the black. But not well enough for last minute plane tickets halfway around the world. Trott didn’t especially want to live on microwave noodles for the rest of the year. 

“I’ll send the plane back for you.”

“Of course you have a plane.” Trott pinched the bridge of his nose again. 

“Look, you’ll be doing me a favor, because if I have guests that fuckface Boddington can’t invite himself to come stay over here. I can’t stand that guy.”

Trott laughed quietly. They shared an intense mutual dislike of Mark Boddington, one of their competitors who handled a lot of real estate. He was the worst sort of old money frat boy. 

Smith was still crouched in front of the open mini-fridge, watching Trott. He kicked at Smith and pointed at the fridge. Reluctantly Smith closed the door, and backed towards the conference room. He raised his eyebrows, clearly interested. Trott shooed him away, and turned back towards the sink.

“That’s a pretty generous offer, Sips, I just-” 

“Trott,” Sips interrupted. “Don’t think about it. Just do it.”

Trott frowned.

“You’re going to get fuck all done there, the city is broiling and stinks, and the other two are going to make you crazy so you end up snapping at them and then everyone feels bad, right?” 

“It’s a little uncanny how accurate that description is.”

“I’ll send the car on Wednesday morning to take you to the airport,” Sips said, in the decisive tone of someone very used to getting what he wanted. “You guys have passports, yeah? Course you do. I’ll have my guy give you a call, set up a time.”

“Yeah, alright.” Trott took a deep breath.

“It will be fun, I promise.” 

“Okay.” 

“See you later, Trott.” The line clicked off, and Trott held his phone to his chest. He wondered if this was a good idea, getting so mixed up with Sips. Granted, the man never mixed up actual business with their personal lives. Still. Trott found Sips’ chaotic adherence to rules troubling, as he clearly only followed rules he cared about.

“What was that about?” Ross’ voice startled him out of his musings. He set his coffee cup down beside the sink, carefully rinsing out the cup Smith left behind earlier. 

“You have until tomorrow to finish up all those filings,” Trott said. He rubbed his face again. Ross still wasn’t quite meeting his eyes, and he felt bad about that. 

“Fuck,” Ross sighed. “What the hell? What’s the rush?” His face fell at the prospect of spending most of the night in the office.

“Because Wednesday morning, we’re getting on a plane.” Trott walked back towards his desk, leaving Ross staring in puzzlement. He stared for a long moment at his computer, before snatching up his wallet and heading out the door. If they were going to be stuck in here working overtime, they needed something better than the mediocre coffee from the little percolator.

“Be right back,” he called, slipping out the door.

 

* * *

 

Trott was at least glad there wasn’t a stupid long line at Starbucks. Not very many tourists clogging up this part of the city today, and it seemed like their entire building was on vacation judging by how quickly the elevator arrived. He was able to breeze in and out in fifteen minutes, a minor miracle in and of itself. The barista packed his tray with a couple cold brew coffees, and an enormous vanilla raspberry iced latte. Balancing the drink tray carefully, he hoped this would make the day more bearable. 

In the conference room, Smith and Ross were hunched over their laptops with almost identical expressions of grim determination. Ross had unearthed a tiny fan from somewhere and plugged it in. It oscillated slowly between them. 

Trott set down a coffee at Ross’ elbow, pausing to squeeze his shoulder. Ross leaned back in his chair, his fingers brushing over Trott’s before he reached for the coffee with a happy sigh. He didn’t drink, just held the cup to his forehead. 

Shuffling around the table, Trott pushed the iced latte towards Smith.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, voice barely louder than the fan. 

Smith paused in his typing. He looked at the drink, then across the table at Ross.

“You’re such a prick sometimes,” Smith muttered. He twisted and wrapped his arms around Trott’s waist, leaning his face into Trott’s shirt. His fingers hooked into Trott’s belt.

“Don’t I know it.” Trott stroked his hair. He pressed his cup to the back of Smith’s neck, smiling at the little groan he made from the cold condensation.

 

* * *

 

Trott had to admit, having your own plane must be the nicest part of wealth. Nothing like skipping airport security, and escaping the dreaded middle seat for the first time in ages. Smith was a terribly nervous flier, and the flight attendant had taken one look at his bouncing knee before bringing out the sedatives. Smith had relaxed after a drink, and spent most of the flight curled up in his luxurious seat watching a movie with Ross. Trott just enjoyed not being crammed in the middle seat for a change. 

The car and the private plane weren’t enough, Trott thought. There had to be a goddamn boat as well. He was a little surprised that it wasn’t a helicopter, given Sips’ casual insistence on all the perks wealth could provide. Trott grew up with a certain kind of wealth, one more about faded family portraits and restrained elegance. But this felt different somehow. Maybe it was just that it was Sips alone, instead of it clearly being family money. The sense that he didn’t answer to anyone, or hold allegiance to anyone beside himself. It was unsettling and appealing at the same time.

Trott prodded a groggy and jet lagged Smith along the dock to where Ross was standing, watching their suitcases get loaded onto the boat. It looked more like a fancy pleasure yacht than anything like a taxi. Trott supposed it belonged to Sips as well, watching the small crew load on several boxes of groceries.

It was astonishingly beautiful water, and Trott spent a great deal of the trip with Smith dozing on his shoulder as he watched the ocean. They cruised far out between the little islands. Ross chatted amiably with the boat captain as the sun slanted towards the horizon. 

Sips met them at the dock, hands in his pockets and grinning underneath a panama hat. He looked a bit like a healthier, less bearded Hemmingway in his pale trousers and vivid pink shirt, patterned with tiny, colorful palm trees. He looked absurd and yet comfortable.

“Good to see you,” Sips said cheerfully. “How was the trip?”

“Very nice.” Trott pushed a yawning Smith towards the dock.

“Great - hey thanks Edward!” Sips waved at the boat captain, who paused in helping unload the groceries to offer a jaunty wave back.

“This is a beautiful place,” Ross said, shading his eyes as he scanned the coast line. “How many neighbors have you got out here?”

“Well, there’s an island over that way.” Sips gestured vaguely to one direction. “And I think there’s a resort on the island north of here.”

“What, do you own the whole island?” Smith snorted, picking up his suitcase. 

“Yeah.”

“The  whole island ?” Smith’s voice pitched up incredulously.

“Yeah, Smiffy, the  whole island.” Sips slapped him on the back. “Come on, I’ll show you around.” He led them up the path from the dock, past a couple of small cottages that looked like some kind of beach resort to Trott. But Sips kept walking, pointing out trees and flowers to Smith. Ross hefted two cases, brushing off Trott’s offer to help. 

Ross was glad he spent so much time in the gym doing cardio, because the walk was longer than he expected. They went up a gentle slope, shaded by incredibly green trees. He glanced around, wondering if there were fruit trees here. It looked like something out of a movie set.  

“You have a helipad?” Trott asked, glancing through a break in the greenery.

“Yeah, just in case.” Sips grinned at the way Trott shook his head. He slung his arm around Smith’s shoulders as they walked.

“Look at the birds, Smiffy, they’re ridiculously orange…” Sips pointed up into the trees.

Trott glanced back at Ross, trailing along with their suitcases and staring up into the trees. He smiled at Trott, stifling a yawn.

 

* * *

 

Around the curve of the path, the view opened up to the other side of the island. An enormous house stood on the slope, with layers of flagstone terrace extending around a pool and down to the pristine beach. Ross muttered a curse, nearly running into Trott stopped in the middle of the path.

“Would you look at that?” Sips said, his voice mild and pleased. “Probably the prettiest place I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Damn,” Smith agreed. “That does look incredible.”

It was enormous, bigger than Sips’ condo, a low slung building of white and grey, accented with dark wood. The wide living room had sliding wall panels, opening up the glass onto the shaded half of the terrace. A few steps down, the pool gleamed, it’s edge blurring into the ocean horizon. Beside it, a built in hot tub rose up on the near side, a tiny waterfall circulating from it back into the pool. A few palm trees swayed over the small expanse of grass beside the sand, a hammock slung between two of them. It looked like something out of a magazine, the sort of thing you saw on tables in the reception rooms of big firms. 

The ocean murmured, a steady sound like white noise. Trott found it incredibly soothing. He dropped into one of the terrace chairs, peeling off his sunglasses. The sun was just beginning to set on the other side of the island, leaving the ocean in front of him a dark blue and the clouds pastel with reflected light. He could hear Ross asking Sips something, probably where to stash their luggage, and Smith’s voice.

Stretching his feet out, Trott carefully toed off one shoe and then the other. Getting his socks off was harder, but eventually he managed to slide them down by rubbing his feet together. He just didn’t want to move, and lose this perfect view.

“Sir?” A voice at his elbow startled him, and Trott nearly fell out of his chair. He turned to see a middle aged woman, streaks of grey in her dark hair, offering him a glass full of something brightly colored. “You must be thirsty after your trip.”

“Thank you,” Trott said. The glass was cool, a few ice cubes clinking.

“Hibiscus mint tea,” she explained. Before Trott could ask her name or anything else, she bustled back into the house.

“You have servants?” Trott hissed at Sips when he strolled outside.

“I have a very capable property manager,” Sips countered, settling into a chair beside Trott. “She lives out here most of the year, enjoys the view when I’m not around, and takes care of everything for me. Couldn’t do without her.” He smiled, affable and relaxed as the woman returned.

“Naomi, this is my good friend, Chris Trott. Trott, this is Naomi Winters.” 

“How lovely to meet you,” she said, smiling. She handed Sips a glass of tea. “There’s some dinner ready for you, whenever you feel like eating. Do you want me to come up and make breakfast?”

“Thanks Naomi, we’ll be fine for breakfast. I’ll call you if we need anything.”

“Alright then.” She patted Sips on the shoulder as she went back inside.

“She lives in the house by the docks we passed,” Sips said, slipping off his loafers to put his feet up on the small table. “Can’t just leave the place, god knows what would happen. Edward too, he takes care of the boat.”

“Wild.” Trott sighed and sipped his tea. It was just barely sweet, and vividly red. The ice cubes crackled, bumping together.  

“I met in her when she was a real estate agent in New York,” Sips continued. “Absolutely fantastic. She helped me find this place.”

“And she just wanted to move out into the middle of nowhere?” Trott asked, curious. 

“It’s hardly the middle of nowhere,” Sips chuckled. 

“Hell of a long way from New York.”

“She’s from Suva,” replied Sips. “Things happened, she wanted to be closer to her family.” 

They lapsed into a companionable silence. Trott held the tea against his head. It was warm, but not uncomfortably so with the breeze off the ocean.

“I should go see what they’re doing,” he said at last, when several minutes passed without any sign of Ross or Smith. 

“You guys hungry?” Sips asked. Trott nodded, stepping back inside.

 

* * *

 

They ate their dinner as the sun settled down. Ross and Smith were drowsy, quieter than usual with jet lag. Trott suppressed the urge to yawn, and couldn’t even summon the effort to tell Smith off for spending half his dinner trying to rest his head on Ross’ shoulder. Sips chatted casually, not seeming to mind how subdued his guests were. The food was excellent, coconut scented rice and a stir fry of peppers and prawns. Trott’s mouth tingled from the spices, a pleasant and not unwelcome heat.

They drank beers on the terrace afterwards, watching the darkened ocean and listening to the surf. A pair of birds wheeled in circles, cawing at each other and diving at the ocean. The night sky seemed full of an incredible number of extra stars. Trott dozed in his chair, until Ross helped him up and guided him back inside.

“Thought you guys might crash out early,” Sips said. He flipped the switch on the ceiling fan, the blades turning in lazy circles. “Bathroom’s through there, help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”

Smith crashed face first into the enormous bed with it’s pristine, pale blue linens. Trott ached to follow him. The far wall had doors that opened onto the terrace, curtains drawn over the wide windows. Trott imagined how the morning sun would look, on the empty beach, glazed over the bodies of his favorite people in the world.

“Thanks,” he said quietly to Sips. 

“See you in the morning, or whenever you get up.” Sips closed the door quietly.

When Trott returned from brushing his teeth in the bathroom that was nearly the size of the living room at home, he found Ross trying to undress a cranky and recalcitrant Smith.

“You don’t want to sleep in your jeans,” Ross muttered, dragging Smith half off the bed. 

“Smith,” Trott groaned. “Get undressed.”

“I just want to sleep,” Smith whined. 

“Jeans off, and you’re not sleeping sideways across the bed anyways.” Ross held a pair of Smith’s pajamas in one hand. He was already down to his skin, his clothes piled in an untidy stack on top of his suitcase. Trott fumbled in his own bag, pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of Smith’s old boxers. Grumbling, Smith clambered off the bed and peeled off his clothes. 

They curled up together in the wide bed, and Trott spared a moment to enjoy the exquisitely soft sheets before he sank into sleep. It was a glorious bed, bigger than what they shared at home. Trott sprawled out, enjoying the unexpected room. Beside him, Smith wrapped his arms around Ross to use him as a pillow. Trott pressed his face to Ross’ back, listening to his soft murmuring as he stroked Smith’s hair. Any unease he felt about accepting this over generous invitation vanished in the comfort of the mattress.

 

* * *

 

Ross woke up early, in the pre-dawn gloom. Carefully he slipped free of the other two, pausing to watching Smith snuggle closer to Trott in the warm space Ross left behind. Yawning, he dug a pair of gym shorts and a shirt out of his suitcase, dressing quickly. The faintest light came through the gap in the curtains, and Ross slipped out the sliding doors.

Dawn was only a pale glow on the horizon, a few clouds blurring into the line of the water. Ross stretched his arms over his head, walking slowly down the terrace to the beach. The sand was cool and soft under his bare feet. closer to the water it was firmer, wet and dense from the lapping tide. Ross found his footing quickly, and started to jog slowly down the waterline. It made him dizzy to watch the waves running in and out, so he kept his eyes up on the slowly brightening sky. When the first golden sliver of the sun appeared, he paused and let himself step into the water. It ran around his ankles, eroding the sand under his feet so he sank a little. Ross watched the dawn break, pale gold and grey and blue streaked with clouds. The ocean lightened as well from its midnight hue, turning a deep, brighter blue. He couldn’t remember the last time he watched the sun come up like this, outside a city. He was pretty certain the last vacation he took involved sleeping until noon for three or four days straight. Unsticking himself from the sand, Ross waded along the edge of the surf for a bit, enjoying the slap of the waves against his calves. Then he trudged out of the water, and started to jog back down the empty beach towards the house.  

Washing his feet off in the little shower at the steps to the terrace, Ross heard the sound of a door opening. He glanced up and saw Sips, carrying two mugs.

“Thought you might want some coffee,” he said, offering one to Ross. He tilted his head towards the table and chairs at the far end of the terrace.

“Thanks,” Ross said, taking a mug with both hands. It smelled painfully good. He followed Sips to the table, resisting the urge to gulp the coffee before it cooled enough not to burn his tongue. They settled into the chairs, Ross stretching his legs out with a happy noise. 

“There’s some stuff, I didn’t know what you took in yours.” Sips pointed at a tray with a small container of milk, a sugar bowl and some napkins.

“Everything today, I think.” Ross smiled, dumping in a spoon of sugar and a generous measure of milk. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I went to bed early.” Sips shrugged. “Thought I’d see if you were up, con you into making breakfast.”

Ross chuckled, sipping his coffee. He sighed with pleasure and leaned back in the chair.

“This is so fucking beautiful,” he said at last. 

“Yeah,” Sips agreed. “It really is.” He watched Ross, staring at the ocean as he drank his coffee. 

 

* * *

 

When Smith and Trott stumbled groggily out of the bedroom a couple hours later, the sun gleamed higher over the water, promising a beautiful, bright day. The breeze was strong, stirring the trees around the house.

“Hey guys.” Sips nodded from his seat at the kitchen bar. His plate was empty, just crumbs left. Trott wondered if that enormous glass of orange juice had alcohol in it. For some reason, he imagined Sips was the sort of person who drank at breakfast.

“Hey,” Trott greeted, taking a seat next to him. Smith ambled past them to where Ross stood over the stove, wrapping his arms around him from behind.

“Please god let that be french toast I smell,” Smith mumbled.

“Just for you,” Ross said quietly. He smiled, flipping a slice in the pan. 

“I love you _so_ much,” Smith said, his voice still sleepy and low. 

“You just love my cooking,” Ross retorted. But he flipped the french toast onto a plate, and turned to kiss Smith. 

At the bar, Sips looked at Trott, watching them with an amused expression.

“Are they always this sickeningly cute in the morning?”

“Never,” Trott answered, shaking his head. “Well, sometimes on Sundays.”

“Trott, do you want toast or something else?” Ross glanced over Smith’s shoulder. He took a step sideways, as Smith stretched his hand towards the plate of french toast beside the stove. “Wait a second, it’s not finished.”

“Toast is good,” Trott said after a moment. He slid off the bar stool and opened the massive Sub Zero fridge, looking for some juice. He might as well go all out, have a proper breakfast. Behind him, he could hear the sizzle as Ross dropped another piece into the pan.

“There’s bacon too, here.” Ross lifted a plate with several crispy slices of bacon, dropping some on Smith’s toast. 

Smith settled at the bar with a plate of french toast, liberally doused with the caramel sauce Ross had made earlier. Sips pushed a mug of coffee over to him and Smith grunted his thanks, already shoving toast into his mouth. Eyes closed, he chewed slowly and with an expression of bliss. 

“Smith, for fuck’s sake,” Trott muttered, nudging him. “Mind your manners.”

“Mmmm?” Smith made a noise around his fork, opening his eyes.

“Words, Smith.” Trott shook his head. Ross slid a plate in front of him, three slices of toast drizzled with sauce. There was also half a mango and a pile of bacon slices on the side. “Christ, Ross, you’ve been busy this morning.” He sliced into the toast, crispy and caramelized on the outside. The inside was soft and rich, pleasantly warm. 

“Woke up early,” Ross said. He shrugged, pleased at the sight of Smith and Trott eating. He leaned on the kitchen counter, dipping a piece of bacon into the bowl of salted caramel sauce. 

Sips took his own empty plate, and set it in the sink. 

“Ross, you don’t have to mess with that,” he began, when Ross flipped on the tap to start washing the dishes off.

“Let him do it.” Trott’s voice cut across the noise, and both Ross and Sips looked at him. He met Ross’ eyes, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. Ross dropped his gaze, cheeks hot.

“It makes him happy,” Trott said to Sips. Sips shrugged, and patted Ross on the shoulder.

“Great breakfast, thanks Ross.”

“You’re welcome,” he said quietly, filling the sink with hot water and caramel covered utensils. He hummed under his breath as he wiped off the plate.

 

* * *

 

After a meal and a few cups of coffee, Smith was aching to go down to the beach. He clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to whine at Trott, knowing it would only make him take twice as long. As much as he enjoyed Trott’s hands on his back, carefully rubbing in sunscreen, Smith wanted to be outside. 

“Two hours, and you have to put on more,” Trott said sternly.

“Troooott,” Smith sighed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re going to sunburn, and then you’ll spend all week complaining about it, and Ross won’t be able to fuck you senseless if you’re all burned.” Trott raised his eyebrows and smeared more sunscreen up the back of Smith’s neck.

“I could just do it on my hands and knees…” Smith winced when Trott smacked him on the shoulder.

“You get sunburned, you’re not doing anything fun.”

“Fine,” Smith groaned. He glanced over as Ross came out of the bathroom, and his face lit up with glee. 

“What is that?” Smith exclaimed.

“What?” asked Ross. He glanced down at himself in puzzlement.

“You look like a stripper.”

“Oh fuck off, Smith.” Ross threw a towel at him. He was wearing a red and black suit, a speedo style that was cut very low at the hips. 

“Clearly all that time in the gym is good for you.” Smith raised his eyebrows suggestively. He’d never told Trott how much Ross spent on his gym membership. Ross concealed that expense with some “creative” accounting. It was something of a running inside joke now.

“Well, one of us has to look good.” 

Smith flipped him off, and Trott just rolled his eyes.

“Get over here Ross, sunscreen.” Trott waved the bottle at him. Ross sat on the edge of the bed beside them, taking the bottle to begin carefully covering himself from head to toe. 

“I’ll do your back,” Smith offered. He smoothed his hands over Ross’ shoulders, enjoying the sight of Ross bent forward to rub his calves.

“Trott?” Ross asked, standing up with a little stretch. He was quite aware of Smith watching, and smirked just a tiny bit.

“Yeah.” Trott stood up and lifted his arms, waiting. Ross and Smith stood on either side of him, rubbing sunscreen over every bit of exposed skin, from the nape of his neck to the backs of his knees. Smith knelt down, rubbing his hands over Trott’s legs, up to the hem of his brightly patterned swim trunks. He leaned his head on Trott’s hip, delighted with the hand resting on his shoulder. Ross stood beside Trott, rubbing sunscreen into his back and over his ribs. 

“Are your cabana boys all done lubing you up, Trott?” Sips called from the terrace.

“Almost,” Trott shouted back. He opened his eyes, and found himself staring directly at Ross. He pulled him down for a kiss. It went on longer than planned, lost in the slow press of Ross’ lips, the warmth of his neck under Trott’s palm. Smith scrambled to his feet, slipping his arms around both of them.

“Feeling left out, sunshine?” Trott stroked Smith’s face, smiling as he turned his head into the touch. He kissed Smith, biting his lower lip gently. Smith moaned quietly, and Ross kissed the side of his face.

“Come on then,” Smith said, a bit breathless. “Let’s go!”

“Alright, alright!” Trott pushed them out the door.

 

* * *

 

“My god Trott, what are you wearing?” Sips laughed, pushing up his sunglasses. “Grandma’s couch?” He stared at the brilliant floral pattern of Trott’s swim trunks, enormous pink and red flowers on a pale blue. 

“I could ask the same thing,” Trott snarked, gesturing at Sips. “Did you save those from 1987? Christ, Sips.” 

“What?” Sips looked down at his neon purple and turquoise board shorts. He was unsurprisingly tanned, his chest hair dark and scruffy. “Smiffy, you missed the memo about exciting swimwear.” He stared at Smith’s plain blue swim trunks, pulling an exaggerated face of disappointment. 

“The excitement's all on the inside, if you know what I mean,” Smith quipped, raising his eyebrows. “Not like Ross, where you can see it all.”

Sips whistled appreciatively. Ross snapped his towel at Smith, who danced out of the way with a laugh. 

“Shorts just hold you back in the water,” Ross said in serious voice.

“You’re not swimming for a medal,” Smith countered.

“I’m going to outswim you when the sharks come round.”

“Did you hear that Trott? Ross is going to leave me to be eaten by sharks.”

“Go see if there are any sharks.” Trott pushed both of them down the steps. Someone, Naomi he guessed, had placed a couple beach chairs on the sand and set up some umbrellas. He couldn’t exactly imagine Sips doing it, though maybe Ross had. Or one of the other, apparently invisible staff members here. Maybe they’d get back and the bed would magically be made, their mess straightened. Sand crunched underfoot, soft and white. 

“Race you,” Ross said suddenly, hip checking Smith. He tossed their towels on a chair. Smith took off after him, pelting across the beach just a step behind. They splashed into the surf. When Ross came to a stop, Smith tackled him and they crashed into the water. The laughing and swearing carried on the breeze.

Sips and Trott settled down in the shade of the umbrellas, half watching Smith and Ross horse around in the waves. 

“This was very generous of you,” Trott started to say. His fingers played with the edge of the towel on his chair. He glanced around, half expecting someone to appear out of nowhere.

“I’m not expecting payment for it,” Sips said, his voice unexpectedly reassuring. “I’m not expecting you to pimp your boys out for the sake of a vacation.”

“Right,” Trott sighed, relief shading his voice even as he tried to conceal it. 

“I do actually enjoy your company, even when someone’s not sucking my dick.”

Some of the tension left Trott’s shoulders. He watched Smith tackle Ross again, dunking them both into the waves. Carefully Trott set the alarm on his watch and fastened it to the arm of the chair. He was certain they’d forget and he’d need to drag them out of the water to put more sunscreen on. The last thing he wanted was two sunburned, cranky men on his hands during his vacation.

“I always wonder what people are like, outside of work,” Sips continued. He adjusted the Ray Bans he wore, the dark lenses shading his eyes against the bright beach. “Not the way they are at dinner, or cocktail parties, or any of the socializing you do in this business because that’s all still business. Everyone’s still playing a part.”

“Yeah,” Trott agreed. “I’ve noticed that.” Not that they were running in quite the same business circles, not yet. But the idea was the same, all the way through.

“Fucking Boddington, for example. He puts up that cheery good old boy front, and he’s almost exactly the same if he’s in a board room or a strip club.” Sips grimaced. “I’m pretty convinced there’s nothing to him at all. You could pop that guy like a balloon and there wouldn’t be anything inside but gas and the last three drinks he had.”

“But you guys…” Sips trailed off, glancing at Trott who watched him with a frank curiosity. “They’re not like their work personas. Well, Ross still swears as much.”

“Gonna take a lot more than one session with a belt to break that habit,” laughed Trott.

“Duly noted,” Sips said dryly. “But Smith? He’s completely different with you, and away from the office. Even you, you’re different.”

Trott nodded, unsurprised. It wasn’t exactly a revelation.

“I mean, everyone kind of has a part to play right? Ross makes everything run smoothly, Smith charms them, I do the hard talking.” Trott shrugged. “But yeah, it is very different than how they really are.”

“You have to watch out, that it doesn’t take over all of you.” Sips took off his sunglasses and looked very seriously at Trott. “You guys have this whole other thing, and I think that probably helps you separate work and life. But seriously, Trott, this business makes it rough when you spend so much time around all these fucking people.” Sips sighed, playing with his sunglasses.

“Why are you telling me this?” Trott asked when the silence dragged on.

“Because I like you guys, and your scrappy ridiculous firm, and I like you as people.” Sips slipped his sunglasses back on. “I don’t want to see you lose that.”

“What is this, a dad speech?” Some irritation shaded Trott’s voice. “We all have fathers, already.”

“Believe me, I’m not interested in being your dad,” Sips chuckled. “Not at all.”

Trott stretched out on the chaise, mulling Sips’ words over. He watched Ross swim in long, even strokes out into the water. It was almost too gorgeous to be real, the delicate shades of blue and green. 

“Anything that happens, happens because we feel like doing it,” Trott said at last. He watched Smith digging his hands into the wet sand in the surf. He called towards Ross, holding something up for him to see. Ross splashed towards him and crouched down, their heads together. 

“That’s good with me,” Sips answered complacently. “Like I said, I wasn’t expecting anything.”

“There’s always expectations,” Trott said under his breath. Sips just raised an eyebrow.

“Well, Trott, my current expectation is for you to fucking enjoy yourself and stop worrying about my sinister motives.”

Shaking his head, Trott tried to relax back into his chair. 

 

* * *

 

Ross came back well before the alarm went off on Trott’s watch, sitting on the end of Trott’s chaise with Trott’s feet in his lap. Sips was out the in the water, swimming lazy circles around Smith floating in the waves. 

“Are you happy?” Ross asked, his voice quiet. He massaged Trott’s ankle, rubbing his fingers along the tendon at the back, up his calf. 

“I am happy, sunshine.” Trott opened his eyes to watch Ross. He stretched out one arm, fingers grazing Ross’ side. 

“Good.” Ross bent forward to kiss Trott’s knee, and Trott sat all the way up. He cupped Ross’ cheek, delighted by the way Ross’ eyes widened ever so slightly any time Trott touched him. The flicker in the grey blue depths always intrigued him.

The watch alarm trilled.

“Go get Smith, he needs more sunscreen.” Trott grabbed the bottle beside his chair and smeared an extra bit over Ross’ nose and his own. He’d been mostly out of the sun, but it couldn’t hurt. 

Smith grumbled under his breath as Ross slathered sunscreen over his shoulders.

“If you sunburn yourself, I’m not going to let you play with Sips,” Trott finally said. He bit back a laugh at how fast Smith’s head whipped around at the words. 

“Trott-”

“Don’t get sunburned.” Trott wagged a finger at Smith. 

“If he gets sunburned, do I get to play with Sips?” Ross asked, all faux innocent. 

“You don’t get sunburned either.” Trott sauntered down to the water, and threw himself in. The salt stung his lips where he’d chewed them too much in thought, but it was beautiful and refreshing the further out he swam. Brilliantly clear water rippled around him, and Trott dove down to touch the sand. The muffled roar of the waves and his heartbeat filled his ears as he kicked back to the surface. Arms outstretched, he let himself bob in the ocean as the waves carried him back and forth. Swimming in the ocean felt a million times better than swimming in a pool, Trott thought. 

 

* * *

 

“Do you want me to make dinner, or...?” Ross stuck his head into the fridge, curious about what was inside. He eyed the papaya slices, and snuck one into his mouth. The cold fruit tasted incredibly sweet.

“Nah, I was thinking we might eat out,” suggested Sips. 

“Where on earth do you eat out?” asked Smith, looking up from where he sat on a sofa flipping through Sips’ dvd collection.

“There’s places on some of the other islands stuff with the resorts.” Sips shrugged. “Not far. Twenty, thirty minute boat ride, the way Edward drives that thing.”

“As long as there’s food,” Ross said absently, pulling out a melon Fanta. Trott raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s vacation, Trott! When else do I get to drink this?”

Trott shook his head. He watched Sips pick up a phone, and wondered if someone hid cell phone towers in giant replica palm trees somewhere out here. He had no idea how that worked. The wifi on his phone worked, but he didn’t have any service. He was looking forward to the minute Ross or Smith noticed the home network was called “tolietrambo.” Sips had a good story for that, no doubt.

“The amount of Nicolas Cage movies in here is a little bit frightening.” Smith looked up from the stack of dvds. He picked up one. “This is really good though, have you ever watched this?”

“What, Vampire’s Kiss?” Ross sat down beside Smith. Trott focused on them, listening to their eternal debate on the merits of various Cage films, and then listened to Sips’ conversation. 

“I don’t care if it’s in the place or on the balcony so long as it’s not in the middle of the room,” Sips said into his phone, pacing towards the windows. “Yeah, four - yeah, that’s great, sweet, thank you Gwen.” He glanced at Trott and grinned. “No, definitely.”

Sips hung up, and leaned over the back of the sofa. 

“Face/Off, that’s the best one.” He tapped the dvd case. Smith made a face like he was going to argue. “Put it on, will you Smiffy? Dinner’s not for a couple hours.” 

“The use of the words restaurant and resort make me think I need to stuff them into something nicer than swim trunks,” Trott said, following Sips into his bedroom. 

“Did you pack something other than swim trunks?”

“You didn’t tell me that we would need nice clothes,” Trott complained. His fingers tapped a nervous tattoo on the inside of his arm. “I didn’t plan on us going anywhere that needed a reservation.”

“It’s not a big deal, Trott.” Sips opened up his closet. “I’ll loan you a shirt.”

“I’m more concerned about Smith.” Smith’s suitcase had very little besides swim clothes, old shirts, a snorkel, and a couple battered paperbacks.

“I’ll loan him a shirt too if he needs it.” Sips leaned around the door of the closet. “Ross?”

“He’s always got clothes.” Trott waved his hand. Ross had a tendency to overpack. Surely in his bag was something suitable to wear to a nice restaurant, and maybe even something for Smith.

“Here.” Sips handed Trott a shirt. It was a dark blue, subtly patterned with lighter blue fish.

“This is ridiculous,” Trott sighed. He reluctantly examined the shirt, fingering the tiny buttons. Definitely not plastic. 

“It’s perfect!” Sips protested, laughter in his tone. “You’re on vacation, Trott!”

“Ridiculous,” Trott repeated with resignation.

 

* * *

 

Sips’ casual dinner turned out to be the sort of place that didn’t print prices on the menu. Trott stared down at the creamy, soft paper with a feeling of dread. He didn’t even want to crack the wine list open, and pushed his glass away. 

“What are you going to eat?” Ross asked Smith, leaning towards him. “I’m thinking prawns…” He had packed a nice red shirt, rolling the sleeves up and leaving the top couple buttons undone. Smith sported a very similar blue one, also from Ross’ suitcase. 

“Curry maybe? I sort of want this giant fried seafood monstrosity.” Smith tapped his fingers on the table until Trott kicked his ankle. Smith winced, and flattened his hand on the table top.

“Trott?” Ross asked, looking across the table with an excited expression. “What about you?” Food always got Ross excited. He could spend ages examining menus and planning his perfect meal.

“I don’t know I’m that hungry,” Trott hedged. Ross’ brows drew together, the beginnings of a frown on his face. He was about to say something when Sips cut him off.

“You swam all afternoon, you’re probably starving,” Sips said. “I know I am.”

“Sitting in your chair doesn’t count as swimming,” Smith snarked. 

“I swam!” Sips laughed. “Not as much as you two, but I swam.”

“I am definitely starving,” Smith declared. “Maybe we should get an appetizer while Trott figures it out.”

“Smith,” Trott said warningly. 

“That’s a good idea, Smiffy.” Sips waved down a waiter. “Give you some time to figure out how you’re going to eat everything.”

Trott repressed the urge to sigh. Smith gave him a confused look, and Trott just shook his head. He was already feeling uneasy about whether his credit card would cover this meal, and about the inevitable fencing with Sips over paying for it. He suspected Sips would insist.

“You want something to drink?” Sips leaned in, his voice quieter. Trott shook his head, staring fixedly at the menu. He missed the thoughtful look Sips gave him. 

Dinner felt slow and torturous. Nursing a glass of water, Trott gritted his teeth at Smith and Ross’ extravagant orders. Surreptitiously he watched Sips, unsure if he was relieved or more uneasy when he didn’t bat an eye. Too self conscious, he picked at his food without much enjoyment. Instead he tried to watch the ocean out the window behind Ross, the quiet murmur of the dining room not that different from the sound of the waves. 

Smith and Ross proved distracting, too boisterous for Trott’s nerves as Sips regaled them with outlandish stories. Smith had already tucked his feet under his chair, even shifted a couple inches towards Ross after the third time Trott kicked his ankle for raising his voice or laughing too loudly.

Ross kept leaning over to take bites of Smith’s food. It was something Trott never would have tolerated under normal circumstances, and it grated on his nerves. Smith had one elbow on the table, angled a little more close than they ever let themselves sit in restaurants at home. He picked up a prawn off Ross’ plate, eating with relish. 

“Will the two of you stop?” Trott hissed, a little louder than he intended. Smith paused, his fork still in his mouth. Ross pulled his hand back from where he was about to take a bite of Smith’s chilli ginger crab, a startled expression on his face.

“Sorry, Trott,” Ross mumbled, setting his fork carefully beside his plate. He picked up his glass, taking a long drink. Smith looked away, then back down at his food. Trott felt his stomach sink, instant guilt setting in.

“We’re in public, stop eating off each other’s plates.” Irritably, Trott stabbed at his meal, the filo pastry stuffed with spinach, brie and mushrooms falling apart under his knife. Smith winced at the scrape of silverware on the ceramic. Ross stared down at the table, his shoulders tensed. He set his glass carefully beside his plate, nervously arranging his silverware.

Sips drained his glass, setting it down on the table with a soft thud that was audible in the silence.

“Ross,” he said casually. “Will you and Smith go get me something from the bar?”

“What?” Ross blinked, caught off guard. 

“Go to the bar and talk the bartender there into making something ridiculous and alcoholic. A couple somethings. Charge it to the table. Best one wins.” 

“Sure, Sips.” Ross shot a look at Trott, who was still frowning and avoiding everyone’s eyes. Carefully, he folded his napkin. 

“Come on,” Ross whispered to Smith. Smith sighed, following reluctantly. Sips watched them wend across the dining room to the crowded bar, close but not touching. 

“You’ve got ten minutes to tell me what the hell is going on with you, Trott.”

“I’m very tired.” Irritably, Trott stabbed at his food again. He didn’t know what possessed him to order this. He hated mushrooms. 

“I’d say it’s more than that,” Sips said, his voice calm and thoughtful. 

“They both know they aren’t supposed to be so… intimate in public places.”

“Trott, they’re sharing food. On vacation. It’s not like Smith’s got his hand down Ross’ pants or anything.”

“Look-”

“I get it, believe me, you don’t want them to get careless.” Sips tilted his glass back and forth, watching the last slivers of ice melt. “But you’re upset over nothing.”

“I just don’t want them to get spoiled by all this -” Trott gestured at the restaurant. “This is not how we live. Not the way you do.”

“I mean, you could. You probably will, when the business takes off.”

“Sips, I spend more time making sure Ross isn’t blowing the monthly food budget at Whole Foods than I care to think about.” Trott frowned at him. “We are nowhere near-”

“Why?” asked Sips, both curious and exasperated. “Let them fuck that up, have to live on peanut butter for a couple weeks. They’ll learn.”

Trott didn’t answer. He gripped his silverware, turning it over and over in his hand. 

“It’s not the end of the world if they make mistakes Trott. And no one is going to think less of you if they do.”

“I don’t care what people-”

“Bullshit,” Sips chuckled. “You care so fucking much you micromanage your business and your personal life, and you can’t even relax on a vacation so you’re chewing those two out for sharing food.”

Trott made a frustrated noise. The urge to just get up and walk out was strong. If they were at home, where he could just get in a cab, he might have done it. Instead Trott stared stonily outside, at the dark sea.

“Trott,” Sips said after a moment of silence. “It’s all well and good to be on top of your shit, but you can take this too far.”

“Someone’s got to be the responsible one,” Trott said. “You have no idea what they’re like if you leave them to it. It’s a mess.”

“Yeah, well.” Sips leaned back in his chair. “You can still be responsible and not stress out over the groceries. Ross is an adult. You guys run a fucking business, yeah? I’m sure he can figure out how to deal with a grocery budget. It won’t be the end of the world if he screws up one month and spends it all on junk food or organic grapes or whatever it is he likes to buy.”

“I guess?”

“Look, give me Ross a couple times a month and I’ll make him do my grocery shopping. He’ll have fun, you won’t have to worry about it.”

“You might regret giving him your card for that,” Trott warned.

“I can afford it. He can make dinner. It’s a win win deal.”

“You know if you have Ross over there, Smith will want to be there too.”

“You’re starting to see through my cunning plan,” Sips laughed. His grin grew at the confused expression on Trott’s face. “If they’re over, you’ll want to come over to dinner, too.”

“You’re shameless,” Trott said, shaking his head.

“I like hanging out with you, Trott. I don’t know how to convince you that’s the honest truth.”

“You’re in it for all the pretty boys.” Trott watched Smith and Ross, leaning side by side on the bar. He could imagine them almost but not quite touching along their sides, Smith’s foot almost hooked into Ross’ ankle.

“You certainly are pretty, but that’s not why.”

Trott flushed at the compliment.

“Still-”

“Humor me for a minute,” Sips said in a more serious voice. “I see where I was in you, and as much as I don’t miss juggling the bills and faking the confidence to walk into those deals, I do miss the excitement of the beginning of everything.”

Sips stretched his arms, and scratched at the back of his head. He glanced around the restaurant, the subdued glow of lights and the view of the ocean just beyond them, the cheerful clatter of people and the glimmer of shine to everyone. In Trott’s view, he looked like he belonged here. Even with the hideous hibiscus patterned shirt.

“I can’t see you wanting to trade places,” Trott said.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like success and where I am.” Sips shrugged. He reached over to put his hand on Trott’s shoulder. “I learned from some guys who gave me their time, people who took me to lunch, people who didn’t have to but helped me learn the ropes. Professionally and personally.”

“You do a lot of ropework?”

“I can do some good knots,” laughed Sips. The tension eased some between them, and Trott let go of the fork.

“Just give me the benefit of the doubt, Trott, that I want to hang out with you guys even if we’re not fucking. That I like you as a person and not just because I think I’ll get something out of you.”

“Right.”

“You keep yourself so wound up all the time, you won’t get to enjoy any of what you’re working so hard for, you know.”

“I enjoy my life,” Trott demurred.

“Yeah, and you’re going to give yourself a coronary before you hit forty if you micromanage the shit out of everything this way. Or you’ll turn into a dead on the inside asshole like Boddington.”

“I do know how to play golf already.”

“Fuck that,” Sips swore vehemently. Trott laughed at his indignant expression. 

“Alright, advice duly noted.” Trott took a bite of spinach and pastry, wishing he had ordered something else.

“No one here is going to care if you let those two be cute and in love,” Sips said after a moment. “You don’t have to live like you’re constantly on guard.”

“This from the man who told me I should learn more about the rules and getting them to behave?” scoffed Trott.

“Time and place for everything, Trott, that’s what I meant. They’ll learn. You’ll learn. But for fuck’s sake, you’re on an island in the Pacific and no one cares here about protocol or social conventions from the city.”

“Right,” Trott agreed wearily. He looked down at the table.

“Ease up, on yourself too alright?” Sips squeezed his shoulder, the touch reassuring. Trott nodded, his thoughts turning in slow circles over the conversation. 

“I’m not out,” he said abruptly. When Sips just raised his eyebrows, Trott took a breath and forced himself to continue. “My parents… I’m not. There’s too many people they know in the city and we keep up this polite fiction that I’m not gay and one day I’ll marry someone my mother likes who can go to the country club-”

“Hey,” Sips interrupted. “It’s okay. I get it, I do.”

“That’s why…” Trott gestured at Smith and Ross’ chairs. “I can’t.”

“Trott, do you recognize anyone in this room you didn’t come here with?”

“No.”

“So look, tonight, don’t worry about that. You can go back to it when you get back home, but right now, just let yourself relax a tiny bit.”

“Right,” Trott said. “Just relax. Totally easy. Fine.”

Sips gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm. Trott breathed in through his nose, trying to calm himself.

“Hope you like pineapple,” Smith said, his voice a touch too loud. He set the drink down on the table in front of Sips. “Bartender swore the piña colada was worth the time.”

“What he said was that it was a panty dropper,” Ross interrupted. 

“Well, unlucky for you I’m not wearing my panties,” Sips rolled his eyes. He picked up the glass, adorned with a large chunk of fresh pineapple. “I do like pineapple though, good job Smiffy. What is that, Ross?”

“Um, I’m not really sure it has a name.” Ross held up the pint glass full of fruit, pink and yellow and orange. “I think it’s basically solid rum. And fruit. It’s pretty? That’s all I’ve got.”

“Fantastic.” Sips clinked his glass with Ross. “Drink up.” 

Smith settled back into his chair, watching Trott from the corner of his eye. Taking a deep breath to nerve himself, Trott reached over, and twined their fingers together. He smiled slightly at Smith, trying to convey some reassurance in the press of his fingers. Smith raised his eyebrows, looking very deliberately at Trott’s hand. Trott rolled his eyes and squeezed harder.

“Don’t be a jerk,” he whispered to Smith. 

“Are you okay?” Smith whispered back.

“Yeah, sunshine, I’m okay.”

Ross coughed, inhaling a bit of rum as he watched Trott and Smith. Sputtering he leaned away from the table. 

“Don’t inhale your drink, Ross.” Sips reached over, patting him on the back as he recovered.

“Sorry,” Ross gasped, catching his breath. His eyes flicked guilty to Trott. Sips followed his gaze.

“Alright, sunshine?” Trott was still holding Smith’s hand. Ross nodded, still looking unsure.

“Do you want to try this?” asked Trott, gesturing at his plate. There was still an unmangled slice of filo wrapped vegetables. Ross looked even more shocked, but nodded when Trott pushed the plate across the table. Sips picked up the glass of rum and fruit, taking a cautious sip.

“That’s pretty good, actually.” He smiled widely. “You win, Ross.”

“Rigged,” Smith grumbled, and stole a prawn from Ross’ plate.

 

* * *

 

On the walk back up to the house, Trott tried to discern the line between the ocean and sky. The stars reflected in the waves.

“Thanks for the dinner, Sips,” Ross said.  

“You’re going to get fat, eating two desserts like that,” Smith commented. He patted Ross’ stomach. 

“Fuck you, Smith, you’re the one who eats crap all the time-”

Sips spoke up, waving a flashlight along the path. 

“Ross, you and Smiffy should check out that hot tub. I just had that installed earlier this year.”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing like sitting naked under the stars in a hot tub,” Sips said complacently. “I got to talk to Trott about some business shit, so you two go ahead. There’s beer in the fridge. See if you can figure out my favorite bubble setting.”

“What did Ross win, anyways? For the drink?” Smith swung round to stare challengingly at Sips. 

“One of my famous, gold medal winning blow jobs,” Sips answered easily. 

“Gold medal?” Ross inquired, hoping the dark hid the flush on his face.

“Bullshit!” Smith exclaimed.

“That’s right Smiffy, I won it at a leather convention awhile back. National Champion.”

“Bull fucking shit,” Smith repeated, some doubt creeping into his tone.

“I’ll show you the medal if you win something.”

“I want a blow job, too.”

Trott opened his mouth to say something sharp, and bit his tongue when he felt Sips squeeze his arm.

“Well you better get your sweet ass in the hot tub and figure it out that bubble setting. Oh and don’t jizz in there, for god’s sake, it gunks up the works.”

Smith and Ross burst into laughter as they stumbled up the few steps into the house. Ross went straight for the fridge, as Smith peeled off the shirt Ross loaned him for dinner. 

“You’ll come join when you’re finished doing whatever?” Smith asked hopefully, watching Trott lean on the kitchen bar.

“Yeah sunshine, go on.” Trott gave him a hug and kissed his cheek.

 

* * *

 

In Sips’ enormous suite, Trott settled into the low sofa with a sigh.

Much like the room they shared, this one opened onto the shaded bit of the terrace and had the same airy ceilings with fans. It was quite a bit larger, with Sips’ gigantic bed and space for a couple chairs and a small sofa to one side. 

He accepted the proffered glass, unsure of what it contained besides ice and probably an unhealthy amount of booze. 

“Tequila,” Sips said sagely in response to Trott’s raised eyebrows. “And rum, etc, etc.”

“Trying to get me drunk?”

“Hey, whatever is going to help you relax a bit, Trott.” Sips settled beside him, one arm stretched across the back of the sofa where he wasn’t quite touching Trott. He clinked their glasses together. From outside, they could hear the bright, loud sound of Smith laughing and Ross’ voice rising over it.

“Sorry, I should have asked first about Ross.” Sips’ voice interrupted Trott’s train of thought, and he tipped his head to the side. 

“What about Ross?”

“About the blow job.”

“Oh, that.” Trott shrugged. “Well.”

“If you’re not okay with it, that’s fine Trott. Won’t hurt my feelings.” 

“If he wants to, then I have no problem.” Trott tasted his drink again, the ice rolling and crackling. It was strong, probably too much but he didn’t care. “They ask, they know they can do what they want so long as we talk about it.”

“Sounds shockingly well adjusted and healthy,” Sips chuckled, and Trott rolled his eyes. 

“How much are you yelling at them?”

Trott hunched his shoulders defensively.

“I don’t know what you-”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Sips said, his voice calm. “When you lose your temper with them, and raise your voice so Smith looks like a kicked puppy and Ross shuts down.” He swirled the ice in his glass, watching Trott as he spoke.

Instead of saying anything, Trott took a drink and rubbed at his face.

“More often than I want to,” he finally said. 

“This is something you might want to think about,” said Sips, choosing his words carefully. “It’s not good for any of you.”

“I know it isn’t, I just…” Trott made a frustrated noise.

“You don’t have to fix it overnight, Trott. Just think about it.”

From outside, he could hear Smith and Ross talking excitedly over each other, and a yelp that ended in a splash.

“You’re good at setting them off on things,” Trott mused.

“They’re competitive. Give ‘em something to tussle with, keeps them busy and out of your hair.” 

“Smart.”

“You could probably get away with doing that, you know. Might be less stressful.” 

“What is this, Sips? More dad talk, more advice?”

“Nah, I’m done lecturing you tonight.”

“Then what?”

“I thought it might be easier for you to relax if you didn’t feel like you had to be looking out for your boys.” Sips shrugged, taking a drink. 

“There is that.” 

“What are you so afraid of, that you’re wound up this tight?”

“Why’s it got to be fear?”

“Is it something else?”

Trott thought about the question, turning his glass around and around.

“Failure just isn’t an option.”

“You’re certainly not failing,” Sips snorted. “You’ve got an actual office, running investments and real estate, you have two utterly beautiful men who are madly in love with you and put up with you being an asshole…”

“Thanks,” Trott snorted.

“But really, from any outside perspective, you’re succeeding.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because I’m interested.”

“I just... “ Trott paused. “I don’t know.”

“Well.” Sips leaned over to set his glass down, taking Trott’s empty as well. “Don’t get so wound up chasing things you don’t see what’s right in front of you. And maybe spend less time worrying about what your parents think about you.”

“I thought you weren’t going to lecture me,” grumbled Trott. He let himself slump a little, leaning into the warmth of Sips beside him.

“Right.” Sips chuckled, stroking Trott’s hair. “We are here to make you relax, after all.”

“Please tell me it does not involve meditation or yoga or any of that.”

“Do I look like someone who does yoga?” 

“For all I know, you run a secret yoga studio and that’s where all your money came from.”

“Stripping,” Sips said. “It was stripping, not yoga.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“What… stripping? Seriously?”

“I needed to work during university, and waiting tables just meant I had to serve my stuck up rich kid classmates.” Sips grimaced at the memory, and Trott nodded. “Stripping was a lot more lucrative, and if I did run into someone I knew, it was a lot more awkward for them to explain why they were there in the first place.”

“Holy shit.” Trott’s eyes were wide.

“Besides, it kept me in shape. I should really take that up again, get a pole put in somewhere at home.” Sips considered this idea. “I bet Smith would be amazing at it.”

“Christ,” Trott said. He pressed a hand to his face, wondering if he was drunk. “Smith and Ross both, probably.”

“Should send them to a pole dancing class.”

Trott laughed, amused at the thought and half considering it. 

“You want to know something even weirder than my university job?”

“Dare I ask?”

“I went to school with Mark Boddington. We’re the same age.”

“Oh bullshit you are! He’s got to be easily ten years older if not more.”

“Nope. Same age, same graduating class.”

“Holy shit, what happened to that guy?”

“Too much booze, too much being caught up in the expectations and demands of his weird little world I guess.”

“Yeah,” Trott sighed. “So Boddington’s the bogey man? Don’t be so wound up, you’ll end up like Boddington?”

“Yeah,” Sips nodded. “Exactly. Don’t end up like Boddington the bogey man, all grey faced and walking dead with a wife half his age just waiting for him to die on the golf course or in the champagne room.”

“Fucking hell.” Trott buried his face in Sips’ shoulder, shaking with laughter. He felt Sips’ arm settle around him. It was surprisingly comfortable and easy. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the strangeness of everything Sips said and did, but Trott found it increasingly easier to be around Sips without feeling like he needed to walk a tight wire between real and imagined expectations.

It certainly made it easier to handle the feeling of Sips’ breath stirring his hair, and the accompanying shiver of pleasure from the hand stroking slow circles on his shoulder. Trott wanted to climb into his lap and make out, without any expectation or need to perform a certain role. 

“I think you’re trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me,” Trott joked, trying to cover his feelings. 

“Only drunk enough for you to feel like you don’t have to keep up your tough guy persona.” 

“Do you ever just-” Trott stopped, swallowing the words.

“Just what?” Sips asked, his tone so deliberately casual that Trott knew he was paying complete and careful attention.

“Sometimes I don’t think I’m cut out to be their dom, or run this business or anything.” He puffed out a breath, shaky at finally saying the thing that lurked in many of his waking thoughts.

“How so?” Sips ran his hand carefully over Trott’s shoulder, and down his arm. It felt like a gesture to soothe a nervous animal. Trott was amused and grateful for it.

“I just, don’t always want to be in charge or responsible.”

“You don’t have to live a twenty four seven lifestyle. Plenty of people don’t.”

“It’s not just that.”

Sips raised an eyebrow. Trott looked away, feeling his face heat up.

“Sometimes I just want to get fucked,” Trott said quietly. He looked at everything but Sips, worried about what he might see in his face.

“Are you worried that having one of them pound you into the mattress somehow makes you less of a dom, or less in charge?” 

“Doesn’t it?” Trott glanced at him. Sips’ expression held none of the condescension or derision Trott feared. He just looked calm and thoughtful, and his hand continued to rub Trott’s shoulder in slow slides. 

“Hell no, Trott.” Sips shook his head. “That’s just… physical pleasure. It has nothing to do with who or what you are. Anybody who tells you otherwise is just lazy, or full of shit.”

Trott nodded, rubbing his face against Sips’ shirt. They were quiet for a moment. The sound of the ocean was audible through the glass doors. Trott caught a snatch of Smith’s voice, the lilt of it making him think he might be singing something.

“I can’t honestly imagine that riding Ross’ dick, or letting Smith give it to you would make you any less in charge.” Sips chuckled. 

“Ross does make the most amazing noises when you’re on him,” Trott agreed.

“I’ll bet.” Sips huffed a laugh, ruffling Trott’s hair. His hand, comforting in its warmth and weight, slid down to Trott’s hip, and Trott nuzzled more into Sips. Throwing caution to the wind, he threw a leg over Sips and settled his arms comfortably on Sips’ shoulders.

“So it doesn’t matter where the dicks go?” he asked, looking at Sips with a curious and intent expression.

“Put the dicks wherever you want them, Trott.” Sips nodded sagely.

“Good,” Trott breathed. He leaned down, and kissed Sips full on the mouth. 

“Is this your way of asking me to fuck you?” Sips whispered as he gripped Trott’s hips. Trott ground down on Sips’ lap, kissing the line of his jaw. It was exactly as satisfying as it had been in his imagination, the feel of skin over bone and the hot pulse of blood. 

“Maybe. Yes.”

“Which is it?”

“Fuck me already, Sips.” Trott moaned as Sips hands slid up his back. “You have that giant goddamn bed, let’s use it.”

Sips leaned forward, grabbing Trott under the thighs. With a grunt, he heaved him up, carrying him across to the bed in few quick steps. They crashed onto the mattress.

“Fuck,” Sips laughed. “Glad I didn’t try to carry you around the room.” He bent forward and nipped at Trott’s throat, fingers already working at the buttons of Trott’s shirt.

“Why are you wearing this ugly goddamn shirt, Sips?” Trott panted. Kissing and fumbling, they managed to roll sideways onto the bed as they shucked clothes gracelessly. Trott moaned low in his throat as a fully naked Sips pressed him down on the bed. Their teeth clashed, a too hasty kiss as a new sense of urgency overtook them.

“Stay right there,” Sips said. He pushed back, standing up, and Trott watched him collect lube from a bedside table. The only light was the lamp across the room beside the sitting area, silhouetting Sips with a faint golden glow. Trott watched him, the slight rounded curve of his stomach and the slant of his nose, the confident and unconcerned attitude making even his imperfections attractive. He reached out for Sips, crawling back across the bed. Their kissing resumed with the same feverish intensity, Trott trying to press every inch of skin against Sips. The ease of it surprised him.

“How do you like this, Trott? On your back, on top, on your knees?” Sips breath tickled his ear. His cock rubbed against Trott’s thigh, leaving a smear of precome.

“Bend me over and fuck me,” Trott gasped. Sips kissed him again, his tongue pressing into Trott’s mouth this time. 

Rolling to his front, Trott pulled his knees underneath his hips. The slide of Sips hands over his thighs and the curve of his ass made him moan, pressing his face into the comforter. Trott let his legs slip apart a little wider, pushing back into Sips’ hands and spreading himself open. The first touches of fingers made him tense, and Trott had to consciously remind himself to relax. 

With one hand rubbing circles into the small of Trott’s back, Sips pressed a well lubed finger slowly inside him. He worked it in up to the first knuckle, and the second. Trott whined and pushed his hips back, trying to force him into moving more quickly.

“Don’t worry, it’s coming,” Sips rumbled, amused by the needy sounds Trott made. 

“Fucking get on with it,” Trott shot back.

“Oh, I am going to fuck you good and hard, Trott.” Sips slid his finger in and out, pushing against the tight grip of Trott’s muscle. Patiently, he worked in a second finger to spread Trott open.

Hands fisted in the bedding, Trott rubbed his face back and forth. He shuddered and moaned, rocking himself against Sips. His cock ached, and Trott snuck a hand beneath himself to grip it firmly. He didn’t want to come too soon, but he couldn’t stand much more without some kind of touch.

Kneeling up behind Trott, Sips poured more lube into his hand and stroked himself. Pushing into Trott was a slow torture for the both of them. 

“Relax, Trott.” Sips laughed, the sound cutting off with a sharp intake of breath as Trott squeezed around him. 

“ _Fuck_ , Sips,” Trott gasped. “Come on, come on.”

“Come on you, or in you?”

“Please,” Trott begged, his voice urgent. Need made him shameless. “Just fuck me.”

“Whatever you say,” Sips agreed, the complacency of his tone marred by the way his breath caught. His first thrusts were shallow, slow ones as Trott adjusted to the feel of a cock inside him. But soon he was groaning and pushing back into Sips. Shifting his knees a little wider, Sips gripped Trott’s hips and stared down at his back. Trott had his head pillowed on one arm, his other hand beneath his hips. The sight of him was almost too much, and Sips took a deep breath.

Sips gradually picked up the pace, until all Trott could hear was his own ragged breath and the slap of skin against skin. He moaned, trying to keep himself up under the pressure of Sips thrusting into him. Little shudders of white hot pleasure travelled up his spine, and desire coiled heavy and hot in his stomach. Sips’ grunts and panting excited him, and Trott dropped his hand back to the bed. He needed both to hold himself up now.

Trott writhed and moaned loudly when Sips squeezed his cock. Combined with the pressure of Sips against his prostate, he could barely keep himself up on his knees. Trott came with a little shout.

“That’s it,” Sips breathed. “There we go.” Reaching forward, he gripped Trott’s shoulder for some leverage and kept fucking him. The sensation of Trott tensing and relaxing around him was enough to make Sips close his eyes. Hovering on the edge, Sips tried to draw out the moment as long as possible. He felt the tension building, the tightening that signaled his own descent into orgasm. Sips pulled Trott against him, his hips moving in fast, short thrusts as he came. 

“Oh, goddamn,” Sips moaned, his voice ragged. “Goddamn Trott, that’s good.” He slowed to a stop, taking a moment to catch his breath before he pulled out. Sips shivered, delighted. 

When he finally pulled away to find a towel, Trott let himself sprawl gracelessly on his side. His heartbeat gradually returned to normal, the buzzed feeling not quite leaving.

“The beauty of having a big bed is that you can just roll away from the wet spot,” Sips said, handing Trott a small blue towel. 

“Eventually you’re going to run out of dry places to go.”

“In one night?” Sips raised an eyebrow. They both laughed.

Trott let himself curl into Sips, enjoying the lazy sense of satisfaction. Sips stroked his shoulder, an absent and affectionate motion. Yawning, Trott wondered if he should get up. He really didn’t want to yet.

“I’m surprised they haven’t barged in here yet,” he said quietly.

“I think they’re well distracted. Hot tubs are good for that.”

“You underestimate how needy they are.”

“They’ll be alright without you for a bit.” Sips watched Trott doze. “You can sleep here, if you want to, you know.”

“It is a really comfortable bed.”

“Big enough that we could sleep diagonally.”

Trott cracked his eyes open enough to give Sips a skeptical look, and Sips chuckled.

“If I’d known it would take a good hard fuck to get you to relax this much, I would have done that first thing.” Sips kissed him.

It was Trott’s turn to laugh, dragging a pillow beneath his head. 

“Just for a little bit,” he declared, his voice thick with sleep already. 

 

 

* * *

  
Slowly, Trott blinked and focused himself. He was not too accustomed to waking up alone, without someone pressing into his space. The bed never felt big enough with three people. Especially when two of them were tall, needy and tended to use him as a pillow. Confused, with the slightest ache behind his eyes, he reached out across the unfamiliar sheets. 

“You want some coffee?” Sips’ voice startled him and Trott rolled over. The bright morning sunlight spilling across the room made him wince.

“Is it morning already?” he said, his voice thick and rough.

“Has been for awhile.” Sips sat propped up against his headboard, a series of elaborately carved wooden loops. He closed the magazine on his lap and set it aside. 

“Shit.” Trott squeezed his eyes shut. Opening them again, he stretched his arms over his head. His fingers brushed the headboard. Trott wondered where he’d found this thing. It looked like something out of a department store circa 1965. Still, it seemed somehow very Sips. For a man with more money than just about everyone, he had very peculiar taste.

“They’re fine, you’re fine, everything's fine,” Sips said. He leaned over to the bedside table, and poured a second cup of coffee from a thermos sitting there. “Ross brought in some coffee earlier, but I told him you should sleep.”

“What did he say?” Trott accepted the cup gratefully, rolling onto his side.

“Just wanted to know if everything was alright.” Sips sipped his cup, watching Trott. “Told him I got you drunk and made you sell me the company.”

“Sips!”

“Relax, he didn’t believe me for a hot minute.” Sips chuckled. 

Trott groaned, and focused on the coffee.

“How are you feeling?” Sips asked more seriously.

“Okay, I think. Not really sore.” 

“I meant more up here, not your ass, Trott.” Sips tapped him on the head.

“Right.” Trott blew out a breath, shoving his hair back with one hand. It was getting long again. “I feel alright.”

“Good.” Sips stared, that frank and strangely open sort of gaze that felt like he could see right under Trott’s skin. “Maybe let that stay a bit, try not worrying about everything for at least the rest of the morning.”

“No promises.” Trott felt a twinge, saying it.

“Right.” Sips nodded, easy and affable. It interested Trott, how relaxed he could seem. It was a very different Sips from the intensity of Sips in the business environment. With a little flip in his stomach, Trott considered that maybe this was exactly what he was supposed to be seeing. He narrowed his eyes, and Sips grinned.

 

* * *

 

Midday the sun turned white hot and reflected off the sand with blinding intensity. They all tumbled back inside from their morning on the beach. Trott felt gloriously tired, and all he wanted was a nap. He couldn’t think of the last time he’d had a nap in the middle of the day that wasn’t a quick twenty minute thing in the conference room done out of desperation. 

Smith complained about how he felt itchy and wanted a real shower, leading Sips to talk up whatever ridiculous, over the top shower he had in the master suite. Something with multiple shower heads and LEDs, and dock for an iPod with waterproof speakers.

“Fucking hell,” Ross said. Just having a bath tub big enough for him to sit in without folding up was a novelty. 

“Does this thing give you a blowie while you’re in there?” Smith asked skeptically.

“Nah, that’s why I invite pretty boys like you around.” Sips dropped his sunglasses on a small table by the door. 

Ross yawned, sitting on the edge of the bed. He slumped over sideways, burying his face in the striped duvet. Trott slipped an arm around Smith’s waist, then glanced at Sips. For a moment they just looked at each other, Sips’ eyebrows raised and Trott’s eyes frankly assessing. Trott smiled finally, tipping his gaze up to Smith.

“Go check out the shower, why don’t you?”

“Yeah?” Smith looked at Sips, then back at Trott. He leaned into Trott, one hand brushing the hair at the nape of Trott’s neck. He was eager, but the question remained in his eyes. 

“Yeah.” Trott tugged at the ties of Smith’s swim trunks playfully. “Go inflict your musical taste on him, show him what you’ve learned to do this summer.”

“What have you learned this summer?” asked Sips curiously.

“Smith’s been practicing how long he can hold his breath,” Ross said, voice muffled in the duvet. He raised his hand to flip Smith off, sensing without looking that Smith was doing the same.

“Well.” Sips beckoned. “Come on then, show me what you got Smiffy.”

 

* * *

 

Trott pulled Ross up, leading him back to their room. Stripping out of their swimwear, the two of them showered quickly and fell into bed together. Trott wondered what invisible household servants had made their bed, stacking the many pillows against the headboard and smoothing the bedding. It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did somehow. He tried to imagine the woman he’d met, Naomi, moving through their room straightening things and fixing the bedding.

It was lazy and comfortable, with the faint ache of well used muscles and the lingering warmth of the sun on their skin. Ross traced the tan line at Trott’s waist, surprisingly strong given how little he was actually in the sun. The door onto the terrace was still open, the ocean breeze blowing into the room. Ross and Trott tangled themselves together on top of the bed, kissing slowly. They were too sleepy and content to do much more than that, aside from press close to each other. Eyes closed, they both dozed to the sound of the fan and the ocean.

 

* * *

 

The grey and white tiled floor gave way to a soft, golden marble shower. Their entire bathroom at home could probably fit inside, Smith thought as he stripped out of his swim trunks. The glass door swung open silently, and he tapped the panel built into the wall with a small display. It lit up, and Smith was delighted with the multiple jets, playing with the water settings and watching the colored lights in the ceiling shift along to the music. Sips’ iPod had a pleasing assortment of choices, and Smith cranked up some old rock song. Their voices echoed as they both sang along to the chorus.

“That is incredible,” Smith said. Water plastered his hair to his head, making his curls darker than usual. “This must have cost a fortune,” he continued. Adjusting the temperature slightly, he switched to the rainfall option. Water pattered down from the ceiling.

_“Remember how you made me crazy, remember how I made you scream…”_ Smith sang along. Sips crowded him up against the wall, and Smith grinned.

“An obscene amount,” Sips admitted. His hands slid down Smith’s sides to grip his hips.

“For that kind of money, it should come with a blow job.”

“Why do I need that?” Sips teased. 

“Cause you’re a dirty old man who lives to get his dick sucked.”

“Mmm, especially by smart mouthed pretty boys.” 

The marble felt cool against Smith’s back, warm water dripping into his eyes. He let his head rest against the wall, grinning in his most infuriating, confident way. 

“You think I’m pretty?” 

“You know you’re pretty Smiffy.” Sips leaned in closer. “That’s half your problem.”

“What’s the other half then?”

“That you’re still talking, and not on your knees.”

Sips’ mouth cut off any retort Smith could make, a bruising kiss that pushed open his lips. Smith moaned instead, letting Sips push his tongue into his mouth. He liked how casually rough and demanding Sips could be. It was very different from Trott, from his careful and deliberate control. Being with Sips was a little more unsettling, not quite knowing where things were headed. It wasn’t quite like Trott’s steady hands and the familiarity they shared. Smith felt the same overwhelming desire to please, though.

With a sly grin, he sank down to the tiled floor. 

“I hope you’re not going to drown me.”

“Well, that’s why you’ve practiced holding your breath right?”

Sips smirked and punched one of the controls to change the water to the side jets instead of the overhead rainfall. He stepped back, sitting down on the ledge built into one wall. Sprawling gracelessly, Sips gestured at his groin.

“Come on, pretty boy.”

Smith crawled forward, kneeling up with his elbows on Sips’ knees. Water pattered softly on his back and the soles of his feet. The floor felt rough on his knees, slightly textured so it wasn’t too slippery, but not enough to distract him. Sips stroked his face, down his cheek and along the line of his jaw. The touch made Smith’s stomach tighten, arousal and delight filling him.

“Should I let you use your hands this time?” asked Sips. Smith moaned quietly and nodded. He rubbed his face against Sips’ hand.

Keeping his eyes on Sips, Smith lowered his head to put his lips on the head of Sips’ cock. The smirk on Sips’ face goaded him, and Smith sucked it into his mouth. His hands slid up Sips’ thighs, cupping his balls and combing back the wet tangle of hair at the base of his cock. 

Sips trailed his fingers up the side of Smith’s face, and wound them into his wet hair. Gently he tugged on it, delighted by the way it made Smith moan. The sound went straight to his cock, making Sips stiffen and groan quietly.

“That’s it, keep making those noises.” Sips pulled a little harder as Smith went down. 

Smith was exquisitely conscious of every sensation, from the water falling on his feet to the uncomfortable press of his knees on the floor to the grip of Sips’ hands on his head and the sound of the music still playing. The cock filled his mouth, and Smith shifted as he tried to hit the right angle to take him as deep as possible. The ticklish sensation in the back of his throat made him swallow convulsively. 

“Fuck yeah, Smiffy.” The hoarse sound of Sips’ voice went straight to Smith’s cock, desire thrumming under his skin. He moaned, pushing forward until his nose felt the tickle of Sips’ hair. His hand stroked and squeezed Sips’ balls carefully. He lost himself in the rhythm of blowing Sips, his hands and mouth working in tandem to stroke and suck him. It felt like no time at all and also forever before he felt the tickle in the back of his throat, saliva and pre-come dripping over his fingers with the water dripping off the sides of his face. Smith enjoyed the press of his lips over his teeth, the stretch in his jaw as he angled his head to take as much of Sips as he could manage.

Sips groaned wordlessly, his hands gripping Smith’s head as he came. Smith lifted his head just enough to give himself room to swallow. Eyes closed, he kept Sips in his mouth until he felt him finish. Slowly, he pulled off and laid his head on Sips’ thigh to catch his breath. Sips stroked the back of Smith’s neck. 

“Damn,” he finally sighed, rubbing his fingers into Smith’s wet hair.

“What?” Smith’s voice was muffled.

“I didn’t think to ask Trott…” Sips looked down at Smith. “Nevermind. Up you go, Smiffy.”

“Why do you call me that?” Smith rolled back onto his feet, carefully standing in the shower spray. “You don’t call anyone else by a nickname.”

“Just like the sound of it, I guess.” Sips watched him. “You want me to stop?”

“No.” Smith tipped his head back into the water, letting it run over his face and down his chest.

Sips pushed himself up, reaching for a bottle of shower gel on the little ledge in the corner. Smith opened his eyes, watching. One hand rubbed a bit fretfully at his hip.

“You didn’t come, did you?”

“No…” Smith’s voice trailed off.

“Good.” Sips said as he poured the soap into one hand. “You aren’t either, cause you’re such a disciplined, well behaved sub, yeah?”

“Sips,” Smith whined, catching onto this new game. But he didn’t twist away from Sips’ hands.

“Trott will appreciate it, I’m sure.” Sips chuckled as he rubbed soap all over Smith, his fingers brushing his erection before rubbing down Smith’s thighs. Stretching with a discontented groan, Smith spread his feet wider on the pebbled floor. Sips’ fingers were firm and pressed in all the right places. Smith enjoyed the teasing, even if it was a little cruel. Especially when Sips wrapped his arms around him from behind. Something about being warm and wet and held so comfortably and firmly made Smith a bit weak at the knees. He simultaneously wanted to stay like that forever, and to get off right away. When Sips pulled away to rinse the last of the soap off, Smith felt a bit disappointed. 

 

* * *

 

Sips lead a tired, still randy Smith with a towel wrapped around his waist back to their room. He watched Smith crawl into the bed, wedging himself in between Ross and Trott. Smith whined softly when Trott pushed him back.

“Smith, I was sleeping.” Trott’s voice was rough, still half asleep.

“Trott,” Smith complained. “I want to nap too.” He rolled over, plastering himself to Ross. Ross blinked sleepily as Smith nuzzled his neck.

“What, didn’t get enough in the shower?” Trott stroked Smith, his skin warm and just slightly damp. The towel came loose, slipping off his hip.

Smith just made a frustrated sound, kissing Ross’ collarbone. Ross wrapped an arm around him. Trott sat up on one elbow, and yawned. 

“How’s the shower?” He glanced at Sips.

“A lot nicer when it comes with a blow job,” Sips said. He rested a hand on the belt of his bathrobe, fluffy and monogrammed. “Didn’t think to ask what you wanted me to do with him, so I just brought him back. I can take him away if you want to sleep.” Sips settled into a chair near the door, propping his feet up on the little coffee table.

Trott shook his head. He was vaguely perturbed at having to deal with a wound up Smith when he was still groggy, but he appreciated Sips’ tact. This was new territory for them, this sharing and letting someone else dominate Smith and Ross. Exciting, but also a bit nerve wracking for him, too. Letting someone else see so closely into their rather insular relationship was a big deal. 

Trott turned his gaze back on Smith. He was louder when he was tired and needy, his sounds coming even more easily. Ross already had one hand wrapped around Smith’s cock, stroking him with excruciating slowness. On his back, Smith whimpered and gasped, his voice loud in the quiet room. One hand clutched at the duvet. Eyes closed, Ross smiled faintly as Smith tried to urge him to go faster. 

Trott leaned over, touching Smith’s face gently. He kissed him, trying to stifle Smith’s cries. But there was no one to hear, no neighbors to bother. Trott gave up, and pushed Smith half towards Ross so he could kiss down the back of his neck and across his shoulders. He knew Smith liked that. Judging from his volume, and the way he eagerly moved, it wasn’t going to take long for Ross to finish him off. Smith’s towel had conveniently fallen on the bed underneath him. At least they wouldn’t have to make a mess of the bed.

“Please,” Smith begged, wriggling closer to Ross. He sucked a red mark into the skin of Ross’ collarbone, the skin flush with a new tan from their days on the beach. Ross murmured something indistinct and twisted his wrist, fingers tightening around Smith. Smith moaned, the sound loud even when he pressed his open mouth to Ross’ skin. He shivered and cried out, words slurring together into one long sound. 

Ross met Trott’s eyes over Smith’s shoulder. He wiped his hand clean on the discarded towel, and wondered if he was horny enough now to want to get off, or if he could go back to sleep. The expression on Trott’s face made him feel hot though, and Ross swallowed. 

Trott climbed across Smith, and settled himself on top of Ross. His knee fit in the space between their bodies, nudging Smith in the stomach.

Smith curled into Ross’ side, rubbing his face on Ross’ shoulder. He watched with slitted eyes as Trott shifted his hips, grinding himself against Ross.

“Relax,” Trott murmured quietly. “Let me.” Ross curled his hands gently on Trott’s hips, biting his lip as Trott rubbed their cocks together. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of Ross’ head. With infinite patience, Trott dragged himself up and down against Ross, the slow slide of skin on skin.

“Fuck, Trott,” moaned Ross. Eyes closed, he pushed his heels into the sheets. Smith rubbed a hand over his chest, watching Ross’ face. Trott pulled himself up, and wrapped a hand around Ross’ cock again. His thumb pressed against the slit, sliding down the vein along the underside. Ross whimpered, jerking beneath him.

“Fantastic,” breathed Sips, watching Ross’ hands move up and down Trott’s back. He settled more comfortably in the chair, feeling the twinge of arousal in his stomach. Trott glanced over at him, and rolled his eyes when Sips gave him a thumbs up gesture. But he smiled, looking back down at Ross and Smith kissing each other slowly and easily.

Ross came unexpectedly, head snapping back and eyes opening with a breathy exclamation. He looked surprised, his expression so open and unguarded it made Trott bite his lip. He leaned down for a kiss, gently covering Ross’ mouth with his own. Come dripped over his hand, pressed between them, and smeared over Trott’s stomach. 

Smith leaned in close, whispering something in Ross’ ear that Trott couldn’t quite hear. They both smiled at the same time, that synchronicity Trott loved to see. Smith sat up, moving up the bed so he could lean against the headboard. Ross shifted Trott carefully off his lap, and into Smith’s arms. Trott relaxed against Smith’s chest, reaching for the towel to wipe his hands. He was about to clean off his stomach when Ross stopped him. Curled over on his side, Ross licked the mess of come on Trott’s stomach. His tongue traced aimless lines across Trott’s skin. The sight of him made Trott suck in a breath, arousal a brilliant flare from his groin to his throat.

Ross went down on him, an urgency and fervor to his actions at odds with the languid setting. His hands pressed into the soft place at the tops of Trott’s thighs, holding his hips down. Ross made choked little sounds, his mouth moving rapidly up and down Trott’s length. Lacing his fingers with Trott’s, Smith moved their joined hands to the back of Ross’ head. 

“Christ,” Sips whispered. He leaned his head on one hand, watching them with rapt attention. The complete ease between the three of them was beautiful to watch, and he was faintly conscious of the gift Trott had given him by letting him see this. Ever since his first gamble, inviting them out, Sips had wanted to see what they were like with each other. All his speculation, what little he’d seen of their interactions, paled beside the actual living experience of watching them together. 

Smith wrapped his arm across Trott’s chest, and Trott arched up in their hands. He groaned, a long and low sound. His hand tightened on Ross’ head, pushing him down as he came. Ross made a muffled sound, one leg over his shoulder and Trott’s foot digging into his back.

Trott breathed deeply, trying to unclench his fingers as Ross slowly pulled off him. He could feel the little quiver of muscles still wound tight, relaxing as he sank back into Smith’s arms. Yanking the towel out from underneath them, Ross crawled up the bed and nuzzled his head into Trott’s hair. They wrapped their arms around Trott, pressing close on both sides. 

“I’ll let you guys nap,” Sips said in a low voice, finally getting up from the chair. 

“Wait.” Trott’s voice was scratchy with sleep and post orgasm haze. He lifted a hand, beckoning Sips closer. 

“Need something, Trott?” Sips stood beside the bed, looking down at the line of Ross’ trim shoulders and the slope of his back. Smith gave him a slow blink and a smile.

“Come on already,” Trott murmured. He looked up at Sips, his brown eyes warm. Sips regarded him for a moment, and nodded.

“Sure, Trott.” He unfastened the robe, letting it drop on the floor. Sips settled on the bed beside them, pulling another pillow over. Ross turned sleepily, yawning, and Sips smothered a laugh when Ross snuggled into him. Trott yawned, putting a hand on Ross’ hip. Behind him, Smith scooted down the bed until he was curled into Trott’s back, an arm and a leg wrapped over him. In the warmth and the breeze from the open door, they drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Smith jerked awake with a start from where he sat on chaise, his book tumbling to the sand. For a moment, he wondered what happened. He realized he’d been asleep when he unfolded one of his legs and his knee throbbed with a sudden pain. Smith pushed up his sunglasses and bit back a little shout. His knees were bright, bright pink and burning. Suddenly he was aware of the faint tingle on his shoulders and his chest. He looked around, slightly surprised no one had noticed. Smith bit his lip, swallowing a sound of pain. Trott was going to lose it, he thought with dread. He looked over to where Trott was striding out of the water with Ross. The sun picked out golden highlights in his hair, glittering in the water dripping off his arms and legs.

Gingerly, Smith rose from his seat and ducked under the umbrella over Trott’s chair. He considered that he should have sat under the umbrella to read. Or maybe just not fallen asleep. Smith shook the sand out of the paperback. Despite being here for a few days and getting a little more color to his skin, and all Trott’s warnings, he’d done exactly the one thing he wasn’t supposed to do.

Laughing, Trott grabbed his towel and wiped at his face. He’d developed a nice bit of tan from their days outside, though he remained meticulous about the sunscreen.

“Trott,” Smith began.

“Yeah, Smith?” Trott’s smile faded when he looked at Smith, taking in the sunburn. For a moment, Smith fidgeted anxiously with the book. The uncomfortable, growing pain of the sunburn mixed with the awful sense that Trott would be disappointed. Most likely angry that he’d been so careless.

“Fucking hell, Smith,” Ross breathed, eyes wide.

Trott pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. Smith braced himself for the lecture. 

“I was reading…” Smith trailed off, his voice quiet. He grimaced. 

“Okay.” Trott puffed out a breath. “Let’s go inside, get you fixed up.” 

Ross stood at the end of Trott’s chaise, watching them trudge up to the house. Smith glanced back at him, making a confused face. Ross raised his hands, just as baffled. They both expected Trott to lose his cool at any moment. His seeming calm unsettled them both.

Sips shook his head, watching from over the top of his sunglasses. He set his magazine down and sipped from his oversize mug of sangria.

“Why are you drinking out of a giant travel mug?” Ross finally asked, fixating on the odd detail. 

“It’s insulated, easier than running back up for more ice.” 

“Do you need anything?” Ross twisted, looking back at the house. He wondered if he should follow Trott and Smith, if Trott was waiting to let loose with the yelling once they were inside. 

“Nah,” Sips said. “They’re fine, Ross.”

“I don’t-” Ross frowned, still looking at the house.

“Ross,” Sips repeated firmly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Ross nodded, his brows still drawn together in an uneasy line. He wasn’t sure if this new relaxed Trott would last. He dug his foot into the soft, dry sand, watching it stick to his skin. 

“Come sit here, I’ll put some sunscreen on your back so you don’t repeat Smiffy’s mistake.” Sips waved him over, and Ross picked up the tube of highest SPF sunscreen he could find. 

“I’ll tell you what I told Trott,” Sips said as he rubbed sunscreen into Ross’ back. “Let it go. You don’t have to be responsible for everything. They’re adults, they’ll figure it out.” He rubbed at the tense line of muscle in Ross’ neck, digging in a thumb.

“Whatever you told Trott,” Ross began. “He’s definitely a little looser than he’s been in probably years.”

“Well, he’s a smart guy. Knows when to listen.” Sips handed Ross the mug to hold while he used both hands to rub sunscreen into Ross’ shoulders.

“He’s a tightly wound, smart guy,” Ross agreed. “I’ve always sort of hoped…”

“Hoped what?”

“That maybe he’d relax more, if we were better at stuff at work and at home.” Ross looked down at the mug, the slushy swirl of ice and wine.

“You know, you flinch like a kid with daddy issues whenever he raises his voice.”

“Fuck,” Ross sighed.

“Is that a ‘yes I know I have daddy issues’ or a ‘I didn’t know I did that’ sigh?” asked Sips.

“Well,” Ross hedged. 

“It’s okay, Ross, we’ve all got issues. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not in this because I want my dad to, I don’t know, be more proud or like me or whatever.”

“I’m not saying that’s why you are,” Sips said. “Your issues show up no matter if you’re the most plain Jane vanilla hetero or the kinkiest, queerest kid on the block. Just part of us.”

Ross looked unconvinced, staring at the ocean.

“Takes someone with daddy issues to know one,” Sips said quietly. His hand rubbed the sunscreen into the back of Ross’ neck.

“You don’t have to-”

“I know,” Sips interrupted. “I wouldn’t say anything if I didn’t want to say it. When are you guys going to figure that out?” He chuckled.

Sips tugged Ross back so he leaned against Sips’ chest. He settled one arm across Ross’ chest, and took the mug of sangria back for a drink. Ross shifted, sitting between Sips’ legs with his feet dangling off the end of the chair. He rubbed them together, shaking the sand off.

“I just wish I could do more to help him, that’s all,” Ross said after a long silence. He stared out at the ocean, the endless beat of the waves against the sand.

“Well, I think he just needs to realize the world won’t end if he isn’t perfect.” 

“Is that all?” Ross said dryly. 

“Maybe the two of you put a little more effort into cleaning the house and keeping on your grocery budget, so he can see he doesn’t have to be on top of everything all the time. Give him some space to relax in.”

“You should have seen what they were eating when I first met them,” Ross replied grimly. “We are not going to live on frozen food or stuff out of cans.”

“Hey, frozen pizza is one of life’s little pleasures.”

Ross frowned, his eyes focused out on the line of the horizon. 

“I have eaten enough shit cooking to last the rest of my life, I don’t need to do that to myself or anyone else.” The vehemence of his tone made Sips very curious, and he filed the thought away for later.   

“How about you rein in your grocery spending at home so Trott stops worrying about going broke, and in exchange you get to do my grocery shopping?” Sips offered. “I’ll let you do it all at Whole Foods if you’ll cook dinner a couple times a month.”

“Seriously?” Ross craned his head to the side, trying to look up at Sips’ face.

“What, you think I want to do the grocery shopping? Hell no.”

Ross hesitated, lips parted and a crease between his brows. He could see his reflection in Sips’ sunglasses. He tipped his head a little further back.

“It’s a hassle, I know.” Sips grinned. “But I’ll send the car for you, so you don’t have to schlep it on the subway.”

“That’s…”

“I’m sure we can think of some way for me to compensate you for the time and trouble.” Sips’ fingers stroked the line of Ross’ chest, up to his throat. Ross’ eyes widened slightly, his irises a blue so light it verged on grey.

“Think about it, maybe we can find a time when we get back to the city.” Looking pleased with himself, Sips dropped his head back comfortably on the lounge chair. Ross considered getting up, but decided maybe it would be better to stay out of the sun for a bit. He hoped Trott wasn’t too mad with Smith.

“Thanksgiving,” Sips said unexpectedly, jolting Ross from his reverie.

“What?”

“Do you guys go home for Thanksgiving?”

“Last year they went to Smith’s family, I went home. But I don’t- I’m not going back this year. I don’t know what will happen.” Ross sighed. It felt strange to say it out loud. But he’d decided weeks ago that he wasn’t going back unless something really changed.

“You should come to my place. We’ll have one of those weird orphan Thanksgiving feasts, for everyone who doesn’t go home to their families for whatever reason.”

“I’ve always wanted to cook a real Thanksgiving meal,” Ross sighed. “I love mashed potatoes.”

“Start thinking about what you would need for that.”

“You know that’s not for three months.”

“Gives you plenty of time then, doesn’t it?” Sips smiled to himself.

“It does,” Ross hummed. He watched the waves roll up the beach, wet sand glistening. 

 

* * *

 

Trott pushed open the sliding door, and Naomi glanced up from where she was fixing something in the kitchen. There was a brief moment of satisfaction, that he’d finally startled someone in a mundane task.

“Oh dear,” she said sympathetically at the sight of Smith. “You look like you need something cold.”

“Please,” Smith nodded. He glanced at Trott, still waiting for the temper.

“I always put some aloe in the fridge.” She hunted for the bottle in the fridge door. “Let me make you some tea, why don’t you go take a cool shower, rinse the salt off and we’ll get you fixed up.”

Trott nodded, giving Smith a little push.

“Go on, I’ll bring you the aloe and something to drink.” He watched Smith, the angry red shade of the burn across his shoulders.

“Poor man, he’s so fair.” Naomi shook her head, filling a couple large glasses with ice cubes. 

“He’ll be more upset if he ends up freckled,” Trott said absently. He was annoyed with Smith’s carelessness, but trying hard to remember it wasn’t the end of the world. 

“You’ll have to keep an eye on his moles,” Naomi said seriously. “My daughter is like that. You don’t want a skin cancer.”

“How old is your daughter?” he asked, trying to distract himself. Trott did not want to think about skin cancer. That made him feel a bit queasy, an unsettling combination of fear and anger at the thought of Smith getting sick. 

“Twenty one. She’s at the university in Shanghai, though she did come to visit her boring old mom for a bit this summer.” Naomi laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “It helps when mom lives by the beach.”

Trott smiled. Naomi handed him a bottle of aloe gel, on a tray with the iced tea.

“I’ll leave you to it. I’m just finishing up some things, but if you need anything, shout.”

“Thank you,” Trott said quite seriously.

 

* * *

 

In their palatial en suite bathroom, Smith shivered under the spray of cold water. He rinsed the salt and sweat off, trying not to brush the wash cloth too roughly over his skin. The tops of his knees burned the worst, along with his shoulders. 

He poked his head out from under the spray at the sound of the door, switching off the water.

“How are you feeling?” Trott asked, handing him a towel.

“Terrible.” Smith hesitated, then walked quickly back into the bedroom. Trott followed him. 

“Okay, let’s go, I’d get on my knees but that is a bit painful right now-”

“Smith,” Trott sighed. “Stop.”

“Look, just yell at me and get it over with.”

“I’m not going to yell at you.”

“Then, what are you going to do?” Smith asked, no small about of dread in his voice.

“Look, just sit down so we can put something on your sunburn, alright?”

Jaw clenched, Smith sat stiffly on the end of the bed. Trott dripped aloe right onto Smith’s shoulder, and tried to carefully spread it around.

“Why aren’t you yelling?” Smith sounded curious, and anxious.

“Because Ross hates it when I yell, and you get more wound up, and it just doesn’t do much good for me, honestly.”

“Oh.” Smith dropped his head. Trott sat down on the floor to smooth aloe on his knees.

“I’m sorry,” Smith said after a long silence. “I should have paid more attention.”

“It’s okay, Smith.”

“It’s not - I feel like shit.”

“I know.” Trott clambered back to his feet, and grabbed one of the glasses of hibiscus tea. “Look, Naomi made you some tea. You probably need to stay hydrated. Maybe take a nap.” 

Smith scooted carefully backwards onto the bed while Trott dug in his bag for the book he hadn’t finished on the plane. There was never enough time to read, and he had a stack of things gathering dust at home. 

“Come here.” Trott patted his leg as he made himself comfortable. 

 

* * *

 

Quietly, Ross opened the door and poked his head into the room. The silence was just a tad unnerving despite Sips’ reassurances. 

On the bed, Trott sat propped against the headboard with a book. Smith was sound asleep beside him, curled up on his side. His skin was bright red, the color even more vivid against the muted sheets. 

“Everything okay?” Ross whispered. The scene reminded him of weekend mornings, when he woke up early to make breakfast.

“He’s alright, sunshine.” Trott beckoned, and Ross slipped into the room. 

“You need anything?” An anxious line creased Ross’ brow. “A drink, some ice for Smith, anything?”

Trott shook his head.

“I gave him some aspirin, put some aloe on him. Just going to let him sleep a little.” He brushed his fingers lightly over Smith’s head, barely stirring his hair.

“I can make a later dinner,” Ross offered. Trott nodded, watching the way Ross folded his hands together in an effort not to fidget. 

“You don’t have to stay here, go back to whatever you’re doing. Get Sips to put some more sunscreen on you if you’re going to swim.”

Ross nodded. He hesitated, lingering at the foot of the bed. Trott shooed him out the door with a little wave. Chewing on his lip, Ross headed back into the living room.  


“How is he?” Sips asked, leaning around the door of the fridge. 

“Sleeping,” Ross answered.

“So why do you look so worried?”

“Because Trott’s entirely too calm.”

“Ross,” Sips said, trying not to sound amused. “Trott is just trying out this new thing called Not Yelling. It’s the latest craze.”

“Sure.” Ross leaned on the kitchen counter, and distractedly started pushing around the fruit bowl. Sips watched him for a minute.

“Come on,” Sips urged. He held out soda, another flavor of Fanta not available at home. Pineapple lime glowed a neon yellow green in the bottle. “Want to watch a movie, or weird international television in languages we don’t understand?”

“Sure,” Ross chuckled, taking the soda. 

 

* * *

 

Late in the next evening they were spread out in the living room. Ross and Sips had marathoned an entire season of some Korean soap opera that was only erratically subtitled over the afternoon until Smith woke from his nap. Naomi made dinner, chatting with Ross as he helped chop vegetables for the salad. It was an easy, relaxed evening. Long after Naomi left for the evening, they settled around the room with drinks. 

“What good are you to me, Smiffy, if I can’t put you on your knees and put my dick in your mouth?” Sips smirked, pushing playfully at him. Smith clenched his teeth together, clinging to the arm of the chair. His legs were stretched out over Sips’ lap.

“Fuck you, Sips.”

“Oh, I suppose I could put you on your back…” Sips laughed again. He stroked high up the inside of Smith’s thigh.

“I can do something Ross can’t do,” Smith shot back.

“What’s that, Smiffy?”

Smith hopped up, looking around at the furniture. He clambered onto the nearest sofa, and draped himself over the armrest on his back. Grinning upside down, he beckoned to Sips.

“Come and find out.”

“Smith, you dirty show off,” Ross grumbled. “Just because that one time-” He tossed a throw pillow at Smith, missing by several feet. Trott shook his head and wrapped his arms around Ross.

“Just enjoy yourself,” Trott whispered, his lips close to Ross’ ear. He tugged Ross down so he was half draped over Trott’s lap. 

“He’ll be insufferable until he shows you his porn star trick,” Trott said a little louder, directing his comments to Sips. “Might as well get it over with.”

“That so?” Sips raised his eyebrows, glancing from Smith to Trott.

“Show Sips your trick, sunshine, and then you have to behave yourself for whatever he wants to do.” Trott raised his eyebrows at Sips with a hint of a smirk.

Smith nodded in agreement to Trott’s direction, still grinning. Ross grumbled, and Trott hushed him. He stroked Ross’ hair, fingers sliding down the back of his neck.

“Alright, Smiffy.” Sips looked amused. He stood up and approached the sofa. “This trick of yours, should I be hard for it?”

“Yeah.” Smith reached out towards him, but Sips stayed a tantalizing span away.

“Hey Ross,” Sips called. “Come over here.” 

Ross rose with as much grace as he could muster, pointedly ignoring Smith’s pout. He skirted the coffee table and dropped to his knees on the rug at Sips’ feet. Only then did he raise his eyebrows defiantly at Smith. Smith snorted.

“Aren’t you the well behaved one?” Sips chuckled. His fingers brushed Ross’ cheek, making his eyes close. Observing the envious expression on Smith’s face, he tugged Ross closer.

“Use your hands, Ross.” Sips’ voice had dropped into that easy calm, but all the joking was gone. He watched Smith, not even looking down as Ross unfastened his shorts and reached into his boxers. Ross had to repress a laugh at the neon purple boxers patterned with lightning bolts. Sips seemed to favor eye searing colors for his underwear.

Under Sips’ stare, Smith squirmed. He tried not to rub his sunburned shoulders into the arm of the sofa. His stomach tightened at the sight of Ross, eyes still closed, kneeling and stroking Sips’ cock. His mouth suddenly felt dry, and Smith swallowed a bit nervously. He didn’t dare look away, even for the reassurance of seeing Trott watching them.

Sips stopped Ross with a gentle hand on the back of his neck. Ross let himself lean a little into Sips’ legs.

“This hard enough for you, Smiffy?” Sips asked, gesturing.

Smith nodded, trying not to look too frantic or eager. He watched, upside down, the way Sips’ cock bobbed as he stepped forward. Behind him, Ross opened his eyes.

On the wide lounge chair, Trott shifted and watched in fascination. Sips made it look effortless, the way he could stare Smith into silence. But he knew it wasn’t. Trott watched closely, everything about the way Sips moved and spoke. 

“I think I know this trick,” Sips mused, fingers grazing Smith’s throat. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed again. Stretching his neck, Smith strained to reach Sips with his lips. There was a moment as they shifted back and forth, adjusting for angles. Sips placed one hand on the base of his cock, and guided it into Smith’s mouth.

“That’s a good boy,” Sips encouraged as he slowly fucked Smith’s mouth. With each push, he let himself sink a little deeper. 

Ross shuffled a few inches to the side, wanting to be able to see better. Trott raised a hand, giving him a pointed stare. He settled back down on his heels and waited. He wasn’t sure if he was more envious of Smith or Sips in the moment.

Smith moaned, a yearning sound. His hands gripped the sofa, steadying himself as he tried to relax into the act. Sips pushed deeper, testing him, and giving him a chance to choke or stop. Smith breathed hard through his nose, and let himself go. 

“Oh you are good at this.” Sips groaned, pushing his cock all the way into Smith’s mouth. His hand gripped the back of the sofa, steadying himself. He let himself linger for a moment, feeling Smith’s throat tighten, and pulled back out so just the tip of his cock rested between Smith’s lips. 

Trott smiled, watching the scene. Sips was right about the competitive nature of the other two. He could see Ross studying everything. They’d be fighting to see who could give a better blow job for weeks now. 

Breathing hard, Sips fucked Smith eagerly. He was careful to give him chances to breathe, though he relished every time he sank himself deep into Smith’s mouth. Smith squirmed and moaned when Sips held himself still for a few seconds. Smith’s little groans sped him along, and Sips did not waste time trying to delay his orgasm.

“You ready, Smiffy?” Sips panted, watching Smith’s throat rise and fall. The quick jerk of Smith’s head and the long moan made him grin. Sips closed his eyes and let himself come, sinking deep into Smith’s throat. 

In his seat, Trott bit his lip and ran his hands down his thighs. He was uncomfortably hard now, watching Smith swallow and the long moment that Sips held himself there before he pulled out.

“Whew,” sighed Sips. “Gold star.” He carefully tucked himself back in his boxers and zipped his shorts.

Upside down still, Smith grinned and gave a thumbs up, still catching his breath. One hand stroked down his front, resting at his waist.

“Told you it was a good trick.” He coughed and rolled over to half sit up.

“Pretty good trick, but you’re still a mouthy, pushy sub aren’t you?”

“Well,” Smith hedged. Ross smirked at him, recognizing where this was headed.

“I’ll have to get Ross to blow me later, compare your work.” Sips glanced over his shoulder, twitched his fingers. “Come over here, Ross.”

“You can’t be ready-”

“Smith, be quiet and behave,” Trott said, his voice sharp. “Remember what I said.”

Ross crawled forward, settling himself at the foot of the sofa. He tickled Smith’s bare foot, making him jump. 

“Trott, you really should spank these two more often,” Sips said, his hands on his hips as he looked down at them.

“You think?” Trott laughed.

“Yeah.” Sips wound his fingers into Smith’s hair, smiling. “What did I say to you at lunch, they’re undisciplined, reckless boys.”

“I like it, though.” Trott crossed his legs, trying to relieve the pressure of his erection in his underwear surreptitiously. “But we are your guests, and should make the effort. So by all means, go ahead.”

“Thank you, Trott.” Sips inclined his head. Smith groaned, the sound cut off when Sips tugged on his hair.

“Now Ross,” Sips said, his tone conversational. “Go get the belt off the chair in my bedroom.”

“Yes,” Ross nodded, moving to rise to his feet. Trott’s voice made him freeze.

“Yes, what?” Trott asked, his voice soft and dangerous. Ross licked his lips, gaze flicking between Trott and Sips.

“Yes, sir,” Ross said, his voice quiet. Sips smiled, watching him walk away in the golden light from the table lamps.

“That boy has the nicest ass I’ve seen in a long time,” he commented. He looked down at Smith. “Don’t worry, you’re just as pretty Smiffy. I like your ass too.”

“Thank you. Sir.” The way Smith said it was anything but respectful, his jaw clenched and a sarcastic smile on his face.

“I like the mouth you have, too.” Sips’ grin grew wider. “Especially for giving me a reason to give you a good beating.”

Smith whimpered, a soft sound. 

“Can’t put you on your knees, can I?” Sips looked at the sunburn still red on Smith’s legs. “Hmm. Might just bend you over the sofa then.”

Ross returned, and knelt gracefully with the belt in his hands. He thought Smith was probably the better sub of the two of them, for all his over eager, over excited fidgeting. So Ross tried harder to make it look good, while with Smith it came as naturally as breathing.

“Good job,” Sips said. He doubled the leather and snapped it, the sound loud. “Alright Smiffy, take those shorts off.”

“Underwear too?”

“What do you think?” Sips asked, raising his eyebrows. Smith groaned and stood up to strip. Ross watched him, something soft and wondering in his expression. It made Smith pause, enough to risk leaning down to kiss Ross quickly. Ross’ eyes glittered in the light, crinkling at the corners when he smiled.

Trott shifted forward, sitting on the edge of the chair now. Ross caught his eye and smiled slowly. Trott felt himself smiling in response without meaning to, unable to stop his lips from curving up. 

Carefully, Sips arranged Smith so he stood with his legs angled out and bent forward over the arm of the sofa.

“Five, and five more,” Sips said. He stroked Smith’s back. “Think you can do that for me?”

“Yeah,” Smith breathed. Still kneeling, Ross put his hand over Smith’s on the sofa cushion. They laced their fingers together, and watched each other silently for a heartbeat. Sips didn’t say anything about it, feeling a curious affection for them and whatever bond they had.

“Ross, you count them, Smiffy’s mouth has had quite the workout.”

“Yes, sir.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of Smith’s wrist.

“Ready, Smiffy?” Sips stepped back, dropping his arm. He let the belt swing back and forth for a moment, clipping the back of Smith’s legs. Over the line of Smith’s back, he could see Ross with his gaze fixed on Smith’s face. On the edge of his seat, Trott watched the three of them. His lips were parted, his eyes dark and intent. 

The first crack of the belt made Smith flinch, even though the blow wasn’t very strong. 

“One,” Ross said quietly. He squeezed Smith’s hand, his eyes never leaving Smith.

“Two.”

The leather snapped at the back of his legs, and Smith whimpered.

“Three.”

Sips watched the red lines on the back of Smith’s thighs.

“Four.”

He aimed for spot right at the curve of Smith’s ass.

“Five.”

Trott let out his breath, watching the muscles of Smith’s legs tense as he went up on his toes.

Gently, Sips rubbed a hand over Smith’s skin. His thighs were pale, the tan line and the sunburn closer to his knees. The welts from the belt stood out, though they would fade soon enough. Sips wasn’t trying to hit hard enough to leave a mark. Just enough to sting and startle, leave some heat.

“Think you can go five more?”

“Bring it,” Smith growled from behind his teeth.

“You want me to make it ten more?” Sips asked, letting the belt drape over Smith’s hips.

“No, sir,” Smith ground out, his voice slightly less defiant.

“You sure?” Sips teased, dragging the belt across Smith’s lower back. 

“Yes, sir.” Smith rested his forehead on the sofa. Ross squeezed his hand again, silent reassurance.

Smith groaned in the back of his throat, the arm of the sofa pressing into his stomach. This time, the blows came down harder. Sips made him wait more between them, letting Smith shiver and tense in anticipation. Smith did his best not to shout, biting down on his lip. Ross’ voice was quiet and even as he counted each strike. The leather snapped and left aching lines, an after image on his skin. Arousal pooled in him, heavy and warm, and it was a struggle not to slide forward to rub himself against the sofa.

“Five,” Ross said, his voice steady in the silence. Smith visibly sagged with relief. His feet slid on the rug.

“Good boy,” Sips said. He stepped forward, pressing gently against Smith from behind. Smith moaned, his back arching. Ross met Sips’ eyes, caught the flash of amusement before he spoke again.

“What do you think, Trott?” asked Sips, looking over.

“I think someone’s had quite enough fun for today.” Trott rose, gave his clothes a cursory tug, and made his way over to stand beside Sips. He tapped Ross on the shoulder. “Take him to bed, will you? Put some more aloe on him.”

“Yes, sir.” Ross helped Smith back to his feet, gathered his clothes. They walked hand in hand to their room. Ross held open the door, their bedroom dark.

“That’s cute, the hand thing,” Sips said once they were out of earshot.

“Yeah.” Trott smiled. “I don’t know how that started, but I’ve never had the heart to make them stop.”

“They always do that?” Sips let his arm slide around Trott.

“Whenever I flog one of them, anything like that.”

“Sweet.”

“They are ridiculously so, sometimes.” Trott sighed, a fond expression on his face. “You’re very good at this, you know.”

“Lot of practice,” Sips shrugged. “You’ll get there.”

“I hope so.” Trott glanced at their door, then back to Sips. They kissed, almost chaste, just a gentle press of lips.

“Goodnight, Trott. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Sips stepped back with a grin.

 

* * *

 

The bedside lamp cast gentle light around their room. Smith sat on the bed, his arms tucked around his legs, while Ross dabbed cold aloe on his knees. Trott could hear Smith’s sad little whines, and Ross’ soft laughter. He didn’t want to move, to break the spell of the moment. It felt too perfect. Trott’s throat tightened, and the unbearable, overwhelming love he felt for them swirled through his veins.

Smith glanced up, and his smile unmade Trott’s resolve to stay still. He let the door close behind him with a soft snick. 

“You did well,” Trott praised. He stood beside the bed, reaching out to caress Smith’s face. “You did too,” he added, petting Ross’ shoulder. Trott noticed that Ross still wore his clothes, though Smith’s were neatly stacked on top of the dresser.

“Why don’t you get undressed, and I’ll finish?” 

“Yes, sir.” Ross handed Trott the aloe and rose from the bed.

“How’s your skin, sunshine?” he asked, sitting so he could reach Smith’s shoulders.

“Burns a bit. Sir.” Smith hissed at the cold of the aloe as Trott gently spread a thin layer along the tops of his shoulders.

“How about your ass?”

“That aches a little more,” Smith admitted.

“Did you like letting Sips belt you?” Trott capped the bottle and set it back on the bedside table.

“I did, sir.” 

Ross scuffed his feet along the carpet. He waited at the side of the bed, holding his left wrist with his other hand. 

“Come sit with Smith,” Trott said. 

Ross resisted the urge to face plant on the bed. He was tired, but he climbed as gracefully as he could across the mattress. Trott watched him, a hint of a smile on his face. Ross let himself nuzzle into Smith, enjoying this moment with the two of them. 

“I’m very proud of both of you,” Trott said after a moment. “Even if you don’t know when to keep your mouth shut, Smith.”

Ross chuckled quietly.

“Still, you do deserve a little reward for taking it so well.” Trott considered, tapping his fingers on his knee. He watched Ross slide an arm around Smith’s waist, his face buried in Smith’s bright, messy hair. The sun and the ocean brought out the coppery highlights. 

“Kiss him,” Trott directed, turning Smith’s head more towards Ross. They leaned into each other, kissing with a slow intensity. Trott loved to see them like this, the way Ross bit Smith’s lower lip and Smith’s hands spread over Ross’ chest. 

“Very good,” praised Trott. His erection was making a comeback, watching them. He let his hand drop to his lap, idly palming himself while he considered what to do with them. 

Smith moaned, pushing up onto his knees so he could straddle Ross’ lap. Smiling, Ross tipped his face up into Smith’s kiss, enjoying the feeling of Smith’s hands on either side of his face. His hands rested on Smith’s hips, sliding back to squeeze the curve of his ass. Smith moaned again, blatantly noisy for Trott’s benefit.

“You like that, sunshine?”

Smith turned his head enough to meet Trott’s gaze. His eyes were dark, pupils wide. He moaned again as Ross kissed up the line of his throat, swiping his tongue over the red patches he sucked into Smith’s skin. 

“What do you want, hmm?” Trott asked. He leaned on his elbow, staring with a half smile. 

Smith’s eyes fluttered shut as Ross touched that spot under his jaw. One hand slid into Ross’ hair, gripping the back of his head to encourage him to do it again.

Carefully, Ross bit him and felt a thrill at Smith’s groan. The faintly green smell of the aloe tickled his nose. Ross tipped them back so Smith could lay on top of him, taking the pressure off his sunburned knees. 

“Trott,” Smith called, his voice dropping deeper as he rubbed himself against Ross.

“What is it?”

“Want you here,” Smith mumbled, stretching a hand towards him.

“I want to watch you and Ross just a little longer.” Trott slowly unfastened the button on his trousers, the crinkled linen light and soft on his skin. His cock strained at his underwear. 

“Mhmp.” Smith blinked at him. He turned back to Ross, pressing kisses to his face and letting himself settle heavily onto him.

“The two of you,” Trott sighed. “I could watch this all day and never get bored of it.”

Ross opened his eyes just enough to glance sideways at Trott with a hint of a smile. Trott stopped touching himself, sitting back up. He crawled across the bed, settling close to their heads.

“I want to watch the two of you get each other off,” Trott whispered. “Want to see you touch each other.”

Ross moaned as Smith ground his hips down.

“Slide off, Smith.” Trott stroked his hand through Smith’s hair. It was just long enough to have a bit of wave now, and he liked to curl it around his fingers.

Reluctantly, Smith slid to the side. Trott let go of his hair, rubbing at Smith’s arm.

“Use your hands on each other.”

“Yes, sir,” Ross breathed. He reached between Smith’s legs, rolling a bit on his side. Trott crossed his legs, and Smith tucked his head into Trott’s lap. Ross propped himself up on his elbow so he could look down at Smith. They kissed again, and reached for each other.

Trott restrained a moan, concentrating on his breathing and keeping his eyes open. The flush of arousal filled him, a buzz under his skin. Smith and Ross both made small noises as they kissed. 

Smith’s hand bumped at his leg, and Trott gripped it tightly. It was hot in his, Smith’s fingertips stretching to brush the inside of Trott’s wrist. Trott settled his free hand on the back of Ross’ neck. They gripped each other’s cocks, stroking in remarkably close rhythm. 

“Good boys,” Trott murmured. 

Ross whimpered as Smith rubbed his thumb over the head of his cock. His hips jerked forward.

“Don’t wait for me,” Trott soothed. “Let him make you come, Ross.” He rubbed the back of Ross’ neck, up into his hair. 

Smith twisted his wrist, prompting another desperate sound from Ross. It only took a few more strokes before he came, spilling over Smith’s hand. Ross pushed his face into Smith’s neck, moaning quietly. Smith smiled, eyes closed.

“That’s it,” said Trott. “Good boy.” He kept stroking Ross’ head until he lifted it.

“Fuck, Smith.” Ross kissed Smith hard on the mouth.

“Ross.” Trott tugged him up, and their eyes met. “Make him come for me.”

“Yes sir,” Ross whispered as he propped himself up. His lips were red and kiss swollen, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. 

“Ross,” Smith moaned. He rocked his hips into Ross’ hand, begging wordlessly with breathy noises. He gripped Trott’s hand tightly, a sheen of sweat at his temples darkening his hair. His orgasm was quick, Smith biting his lip and moaning loudly.

“You did so well, Smith.” Trott bent almost in half to drop a kiss on Smith’s head. 

Ross leaned on his elbow. He looked up at Trott, staring as he slowly licked his hand clean of Smith’s come. Trott groaned at the sight.

“Come up here.” Trott pulled them up on either side of him. Smith rubbed his face against Trott, his stubble rough on Trott’s skin.

“I want both of you.” Stretching his legs out, Trott wriggled out of his trousers and underwear. Ross helped him yank them down, while Smith pulled the polo shirt over Trott’s head. 

Being naked was a relief after so long, and Trott relaxed into the arms of Smith and Ross. They curled into him from either side, their hands caressing his legs, his stomach, his cock. Trott took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The hands squeezing and stroking him felt glorious after all the anticipation. Every little touch, the shift of skin on skin sent tremors of desire through him. Ross leaned in to kiss him, and Trott flicked his tongue along Ross’ lip. Smith hummed, the vibration of his breath tickling Trott’s ear. 

“God, yes.” Trott clutched them tightly, and their hands slipped over him in the mess of sweat and come. He groaned, his voice rough. Smith made a sympathetic sound beside him. They stroked him through the shivering come down as his cock softened. 

Ross slipped away first, returning with one of the towels. Gently he wiped Trott clean, then Smith’s hand and belly. 

“Come back, sunshine.” Ross hummed, climbing back onto the bed. He flopped with a happy, contented sigh.

Smith curled on his side, spooned up against Ross. Both their hands rested on Trott’s stomach, fingers laced together. Trott thought about getting up to put away the towel they’d cleaned up with, but couldn’t be bothered. He tossed it off the end of the bed. 

The light wasn’t bright, but Trott closed his eyes anyway. Smith and Ross were quiet, still coming down from everything they’d done this evening. Trott felt a twinge of guilt for not planning this more or making sure it was okay first.

“We probably should have talked more, before we came here.” Trott brushed his fingers over their hands. 

“About Sips?” 

“Yes,” Trott yawned. “We haven’t really since we’ve been here.”

“There’s a lot of things we haven’t talked about,” Smith said. His voice was mild, but his gaze was direct as he watched Trott from behind the curve of Ross’ shoulder.

“Smith…” Ross’ voice held a note of warning.

“No, he’s right.” Trott watched their fingers, all tangled together. It was a bit easier than meeting Smith’s stare, and he was painfully aware of how he was avoiding that reckoning.

“I haven’t talked as much as I should,” Trott admitted. “About everything.”

“This thing with Sips, whatever it is…” Smith paused, resting his chin on Ross’ arm. “On the list of things we haven’t talked about, it is the thing I’m least worried about if that makes sense.”

“It does, sunshine.” Trott traced their knuckles with one finger. “We’ve always had the option to fuck other people, if we wanted, and within reason.”

“It’s not just fucking though, with him.” Ross’ eyes followed Trott’s fingers. 

“True.” Trott paused, considering. “Does it bother you, that I let him do this to you?”

Smith snorted a laugh.

“It doesn’t bother me,  _ at all _ _._ ”

“Ross?” Trott asked, lifting his gaze to study Ross’ face. 

“It was weird, the first time, but…” Ross chewed on his lip, with that unfocused expression he made whenever he considered something serious. Trott let him ponder, the only sound coming from the ocean outside.

“I don’t mind, the way I thought I would,” Ross finally said. “And I think it’s nice for you. You seem to get on really well with him.”

“Well enough to get to sleep in there.” Smith’s voice held a trace of envy. 

“That’s something else I should have talked about. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, Trott.” Ross smiled at him. “Hell of a week. Lot going on.”

“Yeah, still. We talked about some things, and we fucked…” Trott’s voice trailed off, and he was surprised by the heat in his cheeks from the memory. Smith’s voice snapped his attention back.

“That why you’ve been less of a prick the past couple days?”

“Smith,” Ross groaned. “Don’t be a dick.”

“What?!”

“Probably,” Trott laughed. “He did use that dad voice he’s got.”

“The dad voice is serious business.” Ross nodded.

“What, how come I didn’t get the dad voice?” Smith complained. “Are you guys doing kinky shit without me?”

“Trust me it was not that.” 

Ross laughed, hugging Smith’s arm to his chest. 

“What was it then?” asked Smith, curious. He hooked his leg over Ross, toes poking Trott in the calf.

“He told me to be less of an asshole to you.”

“Knew it.”

“Shut it,” Trott laughed. “We talked a little about the stress of being on top of things, all the time. That kind of stuff. And then we fucked, and it was very good and I highly recommend it.”

“That going to be your TripAdvisor review?” Ross said, mock serious. Trott thumped him in the chest, grinning.

“I’ll wait to get your opinion, sweetheart, and then we’ll see.”

“He does have a nice dick,” Smith said abruptly, and Ross burst into laughter. “ _ What?!? _ It’s true!”

“You did have a very up close view on it tonight,” Ross giggled. His stomach shook as he tried to suppress the laughter.

“Someone’s just jealous he can’t do that trick.”

“I’m still better at blow jobs than you are,” Ross shot back.

“ _Trott_!” Smith exclaimed. “Tell Ross he’s wrong.”

“Oh no, I am _not_ getting involved in that conversation.” Trott raised his hands. “That is not a question we can answer tonight.” He watched them shove at each other, grinning and shit talking each other about their blow job skills for a few minutes. Trott was so glad he was there, right then, with them. There was nothing in the world he would trade the moment for.

Their mock argument ended when Ross pushed himself up on an elbow and kissed Smith.

“For fuck’s sake, you can’t want to go again already,” Trott said. 

“Hmm.” Ross raised an eyebrow. He shifted onto his back, and Smith laid with his head on Ross’ chest.

“Seriously, though.” Running his hand through his hair, Trott tried to gather his thoughts. “You know if you’re not comfortable, you can stop anything.”

“We know.” Smith reached for him, pawing at Trott until he moved closer. 

“Sips is very old school, but he’ll always respect a stop.” Trott leaned over, hugging the both of them. “And I’m sorry about being such an asshole lately. I really am.” 

“We still love you,” Ross whispered. Trott felt their arms around his back, and closed his eyes against the warmth of Ross’ skin.

“I am going to try to be better about things.” Sometimes it was easier to talk with his head resting on Ross’ shoulder, in the comforting tangle of limbs.

“Whatever you need us to do to help.” Smith kissed Trott’s head, his fingers tapping down Trott’s back. 

“There’s just…” Trott trailed off, unsure what to say. “So many things going on. Too much to all pick apart tonight.”

“You don’t have to, right this second.” Ross’ arm curved around Trott’s shoulders. “All the other stuff, it can wait.”

For several long minutes they laid there, quiet and content in each other’s arms. Eventually Smith rolled to the edge of the bed to switch off the lamp. The room filled soon with moonlight, soft silver light and shadows. He dragged the sheet over himself, trying to flick the edge over Ross and Trott. Between them, Ross was sound asleep. Trott touched his fingers to Smith’s face. The waves continued to roll over the sand, the sound as steady as a heartbeat.

 

* * *

 

Ross loved the mornings. He usually woke up before the others, habit unshakeable even without the alarm clock. It gave him time for a walk or a jog along the beach, weaving in and out of the water as it lapped at the shore. If he lived in a place like this, Ross mused, he’d have amazing leg muscles. Running on sand was trickier than it looked, with the way it gave underfoot and shifted. Even the packed wet sand along the water line was nothing like running on a sidewalk or even a park path. 

He also loved watching the sky. A huge horizon, uninterrupted by anything but clouds, was quite a novelty to Ross. He was much more used to the trees rising up, or the skyscrapers of the city taking a huge portion of the available sky. Standing on the beach, the sky stretched in a limitless panorama. Ross liked the way the light hit the clouds, gilding their edges and leaving the undersides dark grey. As he jogged, the morning’s red light shaded into orange and pink, then gold and finally white. Ross paused, feet sinking into the sand as the waves rolled around his ankles. The blue and gold water rippled out before him, slowly brightening as the sun pushed further up into the clouds along the horizon.

It made Ross ache, and wish that he could draw or paint. The sky looked like something that could be framed and hung on a museum wall. When the sunlight broke through the clouds in a blinding flare, Ross finally turned and began to walk slowly back to the house.

Sweaty and salty, Ross peeled off his clothes to rinse himself off under the outdoor shower. He jumped and nearly fell over at Sips’ loud whistle from where he stood on the terrace, cup of coffee in hand.

“Shit- fuck, sorry!” Startled, Ross grabbed his shorts. “I didn’t think anyone was out here so early.”

“It’s fine,” Sips laughed. “Jesus Ross, I’ve seen you naked, it really isn’t a big deal.”

Flustered, Ross fumbled awkwardly with the handful of clothes, unsure if he just get dressed even though he was dripping, or just abandon all pretense.

“Alright, I’m not looking!” Sips dramatically covered his eyes with one hand. Ross quickly wiped himself down with his shirt and pulled up his shorts. 

“Sorry,” he repeated a bit sheepishly.

Sips uncovered his eyes, still grinning. 

“You’re always a sight for sore eyes,” he said. “You want to walk around naked, it’s not going to bother me in the slightest.”

“Trott would have a fit, and I really don’t want to have to put sunscreen on my junk,” Ross pointed out, his sensible words lightened with a grin.

“Probably would not taste great,” Sips agreed. He paused, looking at Ross, and somehow his grin got even bigger. “Speaking of… I still owe you that prize.”

“Right,” Ross breathed out, feeling his heart rate kick up at the look Sips gave him.

“You want to cash in on that?” Sips tilted his head towards the door, and Ross found himself moving forward in instinctive agreement.

“Sounds like a good way to start the day.”

The breeze off the ocean stirred the thin, white curtains hanging on either side of the glass door. Sunlight pooled on the floor. Sips set his coffee on a table, and Ross let his shirt fall onto a nearby chair. 

“Where do you want me?” asked Ross, trying to resist the urge to get on his knees. Sips sparked something in him that previously only Trott had done. Ross had never considered subbing for anyone, in his frantic and hasty quest to make something of himself once he’d left home for university. He’d enjoyed the attention and the focus of being in charge, getting to control the action, and he was just starting to learn how to be a good dom. But that chance encounter with Trott at a party had changed quite a lot of things for him. 

“Where would you like to be?” 

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.” Sips paused, and Ross licked his lips.

“Underneath you, really.” 

“Is that so?” Sips moved closer, one hand sliding up the back of Ross’ neck. The other rested squarely in the center of his chest, fingers spread wide. Ross shivered, leaning into the touch of Sips’ big, warm hands. Sips’ robe brushed against his legs, all soft and fuzzy cotton.

“You aren’t aching for the chance to call the plays, here?” Sips’ asked curiously.

“I mean, I-” Ross swallowed. “Do you even like that?”

“We’re not terribly different, Ross.” Sips stroked his chest, fingers brushing through the fine dark hairs there. “I spent a fair amount of time in my twenties switching.”

“Really?” Ross blurted, instantly regretting how surprised he sounded. But Sips just laughed, his brown eyes full of amusement.

“Is it that surprising?”

“I mean, a little bit. You do come off as very-”

“Very what?”

“Very much in charge.” Ross let himself lean a little more into Sips’ hand, feeling the other one play with the short hair at the nape of his neck. A low thrum of desire hummed under Ross’ skin. They were almost the same height, so he was eye to eye with Sips, terribly close.

“I want to kiss you,” Ross whispered.

Sips pulled him in closer, tilting his head to kiss Ross on the mouth. It was all too brief and Ross made a small sound of longing when he pulled back.

“We don’t have to do this, if it makes you uncomfortable,” Sips said in a serious, gentle voice.

“No that’s not… I’m just. This is hard to figure out what I should do.”

“Alright,” Sips said. “So here’s the deal. You’re going to get comfortable somewhere in here, and I’m going to blow you. Then you can thank me for how wonderful that blow job’s going to be. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Ross nodded.

“After that, you can go wake Trott up with breakfast in bed or whatever romantic shit you want to do, and tell him all about it. And make Smith crazy at the same time.”

Ross laughed, the sound short and loud. 

“Yeah, I can do that.”

Sips pulled him back into another kiss, letting his hand skim down Ross’ chest to the waistband of his shorts. He palmed Ross through the damp, slippery fabric, grinning at the way Ross swallowed a curse and whimpered. 

“Would you be more comfortable if I tied you up, Ross?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “I like that.”

Sips pulled the belt free from his robe.

“Take your clothes off,” he directed. Ross peeled his shorts off with a hasty motion, stepping out of them. He felt his cheeks heat up from Sips’ admiring gaze. As gracefully as he could manage, he stepped backwards until he felt his legs hit the bed. 

“Fantastic,” Sips murmured. He eased Ross back onto the bed, hands lingering on his bare skin. The belt wound though the headboard, and he bound Ross’ wrists to it. Sips paused, shaking off his robe and admire the sight of Ross stretched full length on the rumpled white sheets.

“A tan agrees with you,” Sips observed, kneeling there in his checkered boxers. He stroked his hand over Ross’ stomach, across the pale line at his hips, and down his thigh. Ross’ chest rose and fell with a few shuddering breaths as he tried to hold himself still. Sips kissed him again, slow and lingering as his hand skated up the inside of Ross’ thigh.

“You are such a beauty, Ross.” Sips continued touching him, hands lightly trailing over his skin. He watched Ross, the little shivers and the way he curled his toes, the obedient parting of his legs when Sips slid his hand between his thighs. He cupped Ross’ balls, amused by the swallowed moan and the way Ross’ cock twitched. 

“Please, fuck- sorry.” Ross bit his lip.

“S’alright,” Sips huffed a quiet laugh. “I’ll let it slide this go round, since this is a reward.”

“Thanks,” Ross moaned, letting his head roll to the side. He closed his eyes, mouth open as he tried to keep his breathing even.

“Next time though Ross, you keep up with that dirty mouth of yours, and I’ll have to beat it right out of you.” Sips’ voice was low, and he twisted his fingers through the dark curls of Ross’ hair just enough to tug. Ross whimpered, unable to stop the sound. Smiling, Sips pressed a kiss to the jut of Ross’ hip bone. The muscles in Ross’ stomach tensed and quivered.

“One of these days, I’d like to see you more formal,” Sips continued, thinking aloud as his hand brushed over Ross’ cock. “I bet you could do it well. Nice matching collar and cuffs, on your knees, quiet and obedient.”

Ross moaned in response, swallowing his words. One finger traced the head of his cock, teasing the delicate skin with the press of a fingernail.

“But I’ll give Trott credit, the natural you is an absolute delight.” Sips licked a path across Ross’ stomach, to the trail of hair leading down. His fingers circled Ross’ cock loosely, stroking but not quite giving enough friction. Ross shivered, trying not to buck his hips into Sips’ hand and face. He clenched his hands, the soft terry cloth belt twisting tighter around his wrists. 

Grinning, Sips licked around the head of Ross’ cock. The mix of breathy whimpers and half vocalized curses amused him. Sips squeezed his hand down Ross’ cock, through the saliva and drops of precome.

“Someone’s so ready for this,” he whispered. 

Sips closed his lips over the head and moved down, taking him slowly into his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Ross gasped, throwing his head back against the bed. He shuddered at the sensation of Sips’ laugh vibrating against his skin. Without pause, Sips moved his fingers to follow his lips.

With Sips half laying on his right leg and his hands bound, Ross felt comfortably restrained. He drew his other leg up, rubbing it against the bedclothes. Without pausing, Sips reached out to grab Ross’ ankle.

“I’ll let you swear, or twist around, but not both,” Sips said, pulling his mouth away. “Pick one.”

“Fuck,” Ross groaned. “Sips.”

“Only one.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Well, stay still then.” Sips grinned, enjoying the flush in Ross’ skin. He pressed a kiss to Ross’ thigh and enjoyed the low moan as he stroked a hand down between his legs and over his balls. His slippery fingers pressed teasingly lower, not quite pushing inside Ross.

“Oh god, Sips, fucking-” Ross took a deep breath, forcing himself to be still. He tried to focus on the pale blue ceiling of Sips’ bedroom, the early morning light. The desire to spread his legs, to lift his hips and beg until Sips either gave in or beat him was strong. 

“Please,” he repeated, desperation edging into his voice.

Sips hummed, enjoying the way it made Ross twitch. Dragging Ross closer and closer to release without quite letting him get there was so much fun, he didn’t even care if he got off. His hand dropped for a moment to palm himself through his boxers. The sight of Ross struggling to control himself was an absolute delight.

“Shit, shit, Sips I’m - fuck…” Ross’ voice trailed into a gasp. “Gonna come, _please oh fuck_ please!” Sips used both his hands now, one squeezing the base of Ross’ cock and other fondling his balls. 

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!” Ross whimpered. His arms jerked at the restraint, and he dug his heels into the bed, trying to hold himself as still as he could manage. Pleasure wiped his mind blank, and Ross closed his eyes. 

Sips pulled back, enough to swallow, and then moved to take all of Ross into his mouth. His hands stilled. Ross’ cock twitched.

“Oh fucking hell,” Ross said softly, eyes still closed. Sips slowly drew his head up and released him.

He felt Sips shift, moving to rest more comfortably beside him in the bed. Sips untied the belt holding Ross’ hands, and Ross took that as permission to roll over against Sips.

“Shit, Sips, you were not kidding about your skills.” Ross kissed his shoulder.

“Course I wasn’t.” Sips laughed quietly, ruffling Ross’ damp hair.

Ross tipped his face up, his yearning unmistakable. Sips kissed him, thoroughly and slowly. He could taste himself in Sips’ mouth, lingering like morning coffee.

“Thank you,” Ross murmured. Sips brushed his lips over Ross’ forehead. He let Ross snuggle into him for a few moments longer, enjoying his presence. 

“Get on up, and take Trott some coffee.” 

“Yes, sir,” Ross said, the barest hint of amusement in his voice. 

 

* * *

 

Ross rubbed sunscreen into Trott’s shoulders as they watched Smith and Sips toss a frisbee back and forth. Streaks of clouds scudded overhead. Far out on the line of the water, there was a tiny rain storm like a grey smudge.

“Did you have a good time this morning?” Trott asked. He was stretched out on this stomach, propped up on his elbows on the chaise. Ross knelt in the sand beside him. One of the giant beach umbrellas shaded them. Trott still didn’t know who put them out every morning, but he was glad for them.

“He sure wasn’t lying about that blow job,” Ross admitted. Trott glanced over his shoulder with a grin.

“Unsurprising. I bet he really does have a medal somewhere.”

Ross agreed, humming under his breath as he rubbed the last of the sunscreen into Trott’s back. His hand lingered, resting on Trott’s warm skin. Ross leaned forward to rest his head on Trott’s shoulder.

“Are you having a good time?” Trott watched Sips and Smith as he spoke. He could feel Ross’ steady breath on his skin, even the way he furrowed his brow before responding.

“It feels a little unreal, but it is good.”

“That’s the truth.” They shifted so Trott could lounge on his side, turned towards Ross. He reached out, pulling Ross closer so he leaned against the chaise. 

“Look,” Trott began. He hesitated, gathering his words. Ross waited, his expression slightly worried.

“What is it, Trott?” asked Ross. He drew his brows together, the little crease appearing between them. 

“I’m sorry about how I’ve been lately,” Trott apologized. He squeezed Ross’ hand.

“We’ve had a lot going on with work and all that,” Ross said. “It’s okay. I know how much you want this to succeed.”

“Doesn’t mean I should yell at either of you.”

“Well.” Ross sighed, looking down at the sand. 

“I know you hate it.”

“Yeah, but I should really just get over that.”

“No, that isn’t- Ross, you have every right to hate it. It’s shitty.” Trott grimaced, waving his hand.

“I don’t want you to think you have to treat me differently,” said Ross, a bit morosely.

“I don’t.” Trott pulled him closer, putting an arm around him. “I just don’t want to - well, to be anything like that.”

Ross kissed his temple, pulling Trott up into a closer embrace. He smelled like sunscreen and his shampoo. It was so familiar it gave Ross an ache in his chest.

“You aren’t,” he breathed. “Trust me, you aren’t.”

 

* * *

 

They ate dinner outside on the terrace, bare foot and casual. The breeze kept it from feeling too warm as the sun set behind the trees. Ross cooked burgers, the quickest and easiest thing he could think to make out of the food in the fridge. He pickled some slices of melon on the stove, and whipped up some spicy mayo. 

“Why do you have a pool when the ocean is literally right there?” Smith asked, dipping his foot in the water. He’d stripped down to his underwear already. His sunburn had faded, just the faint tan and a bit of peeling skin giving away his earlier suffering.

“Sometimes you just want to float and have a drink without getting smashed around,” Sips replied.

Smith splashed Ross, where they sat side by side with their legs dangling in the water.

“Oh fuck off,” Ross groaned, splashing him back. “Now my clothes are wet.”

“Maybe you should take them off.” Smith leered. He clambered to his feet and peeled off his briefs with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. Sips laughed, eating the last of the fries. Ross raised his eyebrows and glanced back over his shoulder at Trott.

“Go ahead, sunshine.” Trott lifted his drink, watching Smith dive effortlessly into the pool. He could be exceedingly graceful when he put his mind into it.

“Come on, Ross,” Smith called, surfacing. 

“You’re going to get a cramp and drown.” But Ross was standing, unbuttoning his shorts.

“Better come save me then,” laughed Smith, floating in the water. Ross stripped to his underwear and paused, hands at his hips.

“Oh fuck it,” Ross muttered. He stepped off the edge into the pool. 

Sips stood with his hands in his pockets, watching Smith and Ross horse around in the water. Smith pinned Ross to the side of the pool and kissed him. Ross made a sound, something between a laugh and a moan. They tangled themselves together, Smith gripping the edge of the pool.

“Look at that,” Sips laughed. “Where’s your phone, Trott?”

“Back inside, do you- Sips!” Trott shouted as Sips dragged him, fully clothed, into the pool. They made a tremendous splash, and Trott flailed in the water. He surfaced to the sound of Sips’ laughter.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist!” chortled Sips, bobbing in the water.

“Sips, you bastard!” Trott splashed at him, feeling his wet clothes already dragging at him as he dog paddled towards the shallower end of the pool. 

“I made sure you didn’t have your phone!” protested Sips. He followed, shirt clinging to his skin. Sips slipped his arm around Trott, standing hip to hip with him.

“You’re such a dick,” Trott muttered, but there wasn’t any heat to the comment. The sensation of being in the pool fully clothed was weird. He couldn’t think that he had ever done this before. Sips’ hand slid up his chest, and they turned towards each other a little more. Sips dipped his head, kissing Trott.

Smith glanced over his shoulder at them, curious. He swam easily towards them, and Ross followed.

“Now we’re all going to get cramps and drown,” Sips joked, resting his arm over Trott’s shoulders.

“Only if you actually swim,” Smith fired back. “Not if you’re just standing there.”

“Being in the water counts as swimming!”

Smith flicked water at Sips, smirking.

“Cut it out Smiffy, jeez.”

“Smith splashes enough to make up for the ocean,” Ross muttered.

“Shut it Ross, I’ll splash you in a second.”

“What did I say, no jizzing in the pool Smiffy.”

“Hot tub, Sips, you said in the hot tub.”

“Pool counts too.”

“You’re no fun.”

“You’re not being creative enough,” Sips laughed, giving Smith a little push. Trott swayed with Sips’ movement, enjoying the warmth of him along his side.

Ross slid around behind Smith, one hand trailing over his back. He looked at Trott, taking a few steps closer in the water. Sips grinned at the longing in Ross’ expression. 

“Come here, sunshine.” Trott reached over, smoothing back Ross’ wet hair. Ross wrapped his arms around Trott, letting himself drift around so he could prop his chin on Trott’s shoulder as he bobbed in the water.

Sips tugged Smith closer, enjoying the way Smith seemed to melt at the hand on the neck. He plastered himself up against Sips, shamelessly grinding against his hip.

“Smiffy, if you’re that horny we’re going to have to get out of the pool,” Sips smirked.

“ _Sips_ ,” Smith whined. “Everyone’s here.”

Sips looked at Trott.

“Should we take them back inside?”

“I would like to get out of these clothes,” Trott grimaced.

“First one in the bedroom gets to take Trott’s clothes off,” Sips said. Before he finished the sentence, Smith pushed himself towards the side of the pool. Ross scrambled to follow him, sputtering at the mouthful of water he got as he dove towards the steps. Sips chuckled, swim walking with Trott to climb out of the pool.

Dripping, they both stood on the terrace. The sound of Smith and Ross shouting at each other came from the open glass door. Trott shook his head, and picked up Ross’ glass from the table. He drained the last of his drink, half melted ice and rum.

“Shouldn’t make them wait too long, but we can let them work themselves up a bit,” Trott said. He picked up his own drink to take back indoors. Sips nodded, enjoying the sight of Trott slipping into the game. 

“Just leave all this,” Sips said, gesturing at the dinner dishes with the scraps of burgers and yucca chips left behind.

“For the invisible servants?” Trott chuckled. He squeezed the end of his shirt, water spattering the ground.

“I’ll take them in later, the invisible servants are off tonight.” Sips ate the last few yucca chips off his plate, and poured another glass of sangria.

 

* * *

 

In the bedroom, Smith hooked his fingers into Ross’ underwear and tugged them down his thighs. Delicately, Ross stepped out of them. Naked and wet, he pressed into Smith for another kiss. The water chilled his skin, but Smith was warm and inviting.

“So who won?” Sips asked, following Trott into the room.

“I did,” Smith gloated. Ross rolled his eyes, and kissed Smith’s neck, swaying back and forth in the dim, twilight shadows. The sun was almost completely gone, the sky outside shading into purple and black.

“Hey Trott,” Sips said. “Remember in the car, how you were thinking the same thing I was thinking, first time we hung out?”

“Yes, I was thinking that too,” Trott replied, eyes gleaming as he flicked on the bedside lamp. “Let’s switch them this time.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. 

“That is an excellent idea, Trott.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Any plan that requires little effort from me,” Sips agreed. 

Smith and Ross waited, arms around each other, as Sips and Trott casually discussed their plans without a glance towards them. 

“Ross, get Sips a towel and take his clothes,” Trott called out. He took a drink, and watched. Smith waited, shifting his weight from foot to foot with eagerness.

“Yes, sir,” Ross said, ducking into the bathroom for a towel.

“Come here, Smith.” Trott waited, and Smith sauntered towards him. He grinned as he sank to his knees. Looking up at Trott like this always gave him such joy. The touch of Trott’s fingers, brushing a wet curl of hair back from his forehead, made Smith’s heart beat faster.

“Well, sunshine,” he whispered. “Come get your prize.”

“Yes, sir,” Smith whispered back, unable to stop grinning. He reached up to unfasten Trott’s shorts.  

Across the room, Ross quietly slipped the shirt off Sips’ shoulders before handing him a towel. He knelt, putting extra care into making his movements as graceful as he could. If Sips liked something more formal about his subs, he could try. If it worked, it would make Smith crazy when Sips praised him. He carefully folded the wet clothes and carried them out to the terrace, hanging them over the back of a chair.

When he got back into the room, Smith had already stripped Trott down and was rubbing his face against Trott’s stomach. Ross sank down to his knees beside Sips, seated in one of the chairs near the door. 

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Sips commented, his voice low. Ross nodded, entranced. He knew he should be paying more attention to Sips, but it was hard to look away from Smith and Trott. Sips ran his hand down Ross’ neck, and Ross unconsciously straightened under the touch.

“Let’s watch this for a minute.” Sips took a long drink of his sangria.

“Yes, sir.” Ross sighed, happily.

Smith ran his hands up Trott’s thighs. He mouthed at Trott’s cock, teasing him with the brief press of his lips, his cheek, a brush of his nose. Trott’s hand tightened in his hair, a wordless demand. Smith let himself glance up, the hint of a smile on his face. Trott’s lips twitched, a smile threatening to break through his calm facade. He shifted his stance, feet braced a little wider on the carpet. 

With his eyes on Trott’s face, Smith took his cock into his mouth. He shuffled closer on his knees and breathed in, moving down until Trott’s entire length was inside his mouth. 

Trott’s lips parted slightly. Smith hummed, deep in his throat. He was determined to undo him. 

“Does he blow you like that?” Sips asked. He leaned forward, speaking quietly as he stroked the line of Ross’ throat. “He is absolutely gorgeous on his knees.”

Ross nodded, letting Sips tilt his head back. He enjoyed the feeling of the hand on his skin, raising goosebumps on Ross’ skin.

“Sunshine,” Trott whispered. Smith moaned, his mouth full of Trott’s cock. His fingers pressed in the soft place at the top of Trott’s thighs. He swallowed, sucking hard at Trott’s skin. He pulled back almost all the way, until only the head of Trott’s cock was in his mouth.

Sips pulled Ross closer, shifting so Ross sat sideways between Sips’ knees. Without thinking, Ross reached to stroke Sips’ already stiffening cock as they both watched Smith. 

Trott shuddered, eyes closing as Smith sped up his pace. His breath came fast and shallow. Smith felt a deep satisfaction at the tiny signs of Trott’s pleasure, the way his fingers twitched and the slightest movement of his hips towards Smith. 

“Ross,” Sips said, his voice breaking Ross’ rapt fixation. He obediently turned, dipping his head to lap at the tip of Sips’ cock. Ross licked down his length, letting his fingers follow the veins under the skin. 

Trott moaned, a quiet sound. Smith’s hands tightened on his hips and he forced himself to take all of Trott into his mouth again. He moved up and down Trott’s cock, concentrating on not scraping him with teeth. Trott groaned, spilling into Smith’s eager mouth.

Ross swallowed, and Sips held his head down for a long moment until Ross felt himself on the very edge of his breath. He blew Sips with as much obedience and skill as he possessed, determined to win at least some praise from him. His fingers brushed through the thick hair at the base of Sips’ cock. Sips pushed up into Ross’ mouth, breath catching as he came.

Trott let out a breath, shaky and slow. He opened his eyes to look at Smith, waiting with a flush in his face. Trott stroked his lip with a thumb.

“Very nice, Ross.” Sips rubbed at Ross’ shoulder. “You learn fast.”

“Good boy,” Trott said, his voice low and rough. Smith closed his eyes, tilting his head into Trott’s hip.

At Sips’ feet, Ross wiped his lips on the back of his hand. 

Glancing back up, Trott looked at Sips. Ross knelt at his chair, watching them. Sips gave Trott a thumbs up, settling back with a pleased expression.

“Ross, come here.” Trott waited, idly rubbing his hand through Smith’s hair as Ross got to his feet. He was hard, flushed and his lips swollen.  

“You and Smith, on the bed.” Trott gave him a little smile, cupping Ross’ cheek. Smith put a hand on the edge of the bed, and Ross sat down, waiting for Trott’s next directive.

“Only what we tell you to do,” said Trott. He backed away from the bed, watching them sit carefully close but not quite pressed together. Ross’ fingers were laid over Smith’s in the bedclothes. 

Taking a seat in the other chair beside Sips, Trott glanced over.

“I like to watch them.”

“They’re very good looking,” said Sips. He finished off his sangria.

“You can kiss each other now.” Trott gestured lazily at Smith and Ross. 

Sips and Trott both settled themselves more comfortably. Trott picked up his drink, the ice mostly melted. He sucked on a sliver of it, feeling arousal stir in his stomach as he watched. 

On the bed, Smith and Ross made out with the enthusiasm of teenagers. Smith’s hands moved from Ross’ neck to his back, and he made eager sounds. Ross pulled Smith’s legs over his lap, scooting them closer together. They tried to press themselves together at every opportunity, hands skimming over bare skin. Smith scratched red lines into Ross’ back, nails digging into his skin.

“Show him what you do to keep Smith quiet at home,” Trott directed.

Ross smiled, resting his forehead against Smith’s and tracing his lips with a finger. Smith nipped at him, grinning back. He licked the tip of Ross’ finger, eyebrows raised. Ross moved to sit behind Smith on the bed. He tucked his legs over Smith’s, pulling them apart. The touch of his hand on Smith’s cock provoked a loud moan. Ross pressed a hand over Smith’s mouth, muffling the sound. Glancing at Trott, his other hand moved lazily on Smith’s cock, fingers dragging up and down his length. 

Carefully Ross pinched Smith’s nose, cutting off his air even as his hand tightened over Smith’s mouth. His eyes flicked between Smith’s face and Trott. Ross held him firmly, and Smith made quiet noises of pleasure.

“Does he like being strangled?” Sips asked with interest.

“Oh  _ yes _ ,” Trott nodded. They both watched as Smith writhed in Ross’ arms.

Ross released his hand, and Smith sucked in a loud breath. He braced himself with one hand on the bed, the other holding onto Ross’ thigh.

“Ross,” Smith moaned, head tilted back. Ross’ gaze switched to Trott, and he waited for Trott’s tiny nod. He kissed Smith’s face, and covered his mouth. Smith jerked and whimpered as Ross cut off his air again. 

“That is _incredibly_ hot,” Sips sighed. “Damn.”

“Isn’t it?” Trott smiled. 

Smith flushed, his back arched. Ross’ hand moved up and down his cock, squeezing and twisting in a way he knew put Smith right up on the edge. Smith gasped and moaned when Ross released him. 

“Please,  _ please _ ,” he begged. Half twisted, Smith rubbed himself back against Ross. His hand gripped Ross’ leg as he strained upwards. Smith kissed the side of Ross’ throat, hips struggling to push himself into Ross.

“Please what?” Trott asked. Keeping his voice even required some effort. He was more turned on than he anticipated. Trott let a hand stray to his lap, idly palming himself and wondering if he could go again this quickly. 

“Please sir, let me come.” Smith turned his face towards Trott, eyes bright.

Trott looked to Sips, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, Smiffy, you can come now.” Sips nodded.

“Ross,” Trott commanded, lifting his fingers off the arm of the chair.

Ross covered Smith’s mouth again, his hand working fast. Smith’s moan of pleasure was choked off, and he came over Ross’ fingers with a frantic jerk. Ross released his nose but kept his hand over Smith’s mouth, holding Smith tight against himself. The muffled sound of Smith’s whimpers felt loud in the quiet of the room. Ross closed his eyes, his face buried in Smith’s hair, and he slowed his hand.

Levering himself up from his seat, Trott walked back to the bed. He handed Ross the towel he’d used earlier to clean himself up. 

“Very nice,” Trott praised. He put his hands on their heads. Smith sagged back against Ross. He opened his eyes when Trott cupped his face in both hands. Sliding out of Ross’ embrace, he knelt at the foot of the bed with his head against Trott’s hip. 

“Would you like to get off, Ross?” Trott asked. The open yearning of Ross’ expression was unmistakable. Trott glanced at Sips, than down at Smith.

“Smith, get the cuffs out of the bag, and give them to Sips,” Trott said. Smith swallowed a yawn and nodded. Trott stepped closer to the bed, beckoning to Ross.

“On your back, or on your stomach?” 

Ross considered the choice carefully. Trott liked to give them choices in these things, and expected better of them when they got to choose.

“Stomach,” he finally decided. Trott nodded, ruffling Ross’ damp hair. 

“You know what he would look good in?” Sips observed, approaching the bed. The leather cuffs dangled from his hand. “One of those nice posture collars with the back strap for his hands.”

“Mmhmm,” Trott agreed. “I bet he would.” Something he’d have to consider getting. Maybe he could find one in red. 

Ross shifted, conscious of both of them watching him now. Smith hovered behind them. Trott put a hand on his arm, gesturing for Smith to sit down on the side of the bed.

“Stay there, Smith. Sips, you want to?” Trott gestured at Ross, who licked his lips in nervous anticipation.

“Absolutely,” Sips nodded. He put a hand on Ross’ shoulder, guiding him further back onto the bed. Ross rolled over onto his hands and knees. 

Sips carefully cuffed Ross’ hands, looping a short leather strap through the bars of the headboard and attaching it to the cuffs. Ross waited silently, kneeling on the bed. He wanted so much to be good, and look good doing it. 

“You want his ankles, too?” asked Sips.

“Yeah.” Trott sat on the edge of the bed, casually playing with Smith’s hair. Smith leaned into him, eyes closed.

“Head down,” Sips directed, one hand pushing gently on Ross’ back. Ross dropped to his elbows, head resting on the pillow. “You know, I’ve got a bar, hang on a minute.” 

While Sips went to find the spreader bar in his closet, Trott looked at Smith. 

“Get the lube for me, sunshine.” 

Ross concentrated on trying to breathe steadily. He shifted his knees, resisting the urge to slide down against the bed for some friction. He was achingly hard again, and hoped Trott would put his hands on him soon. The anticipation and attention made his stomach flip.

The touch of Sips’ hands on his ankles made him jump, and Ross made a tiny startled sound. He slid his legs a little further apart as Sips fastened the buckles of the cuffs tightly. Sips’ hand patted his ass.

“Thank you,” Trott said, his hand warm on Ross’ back. For a moment both their hands rested on him. Ross moaned quietly. He enjoyed this moment, being restrained and in their hands.

“He can be very… expressive.” Ross could hear the smile in Trott’s voice. “You want me to gag him?”

“Nah, I want to hear this.” Ross felt the bed dip as Sips settled on the opposite side of the bed. He resisted the urge to turn and look. Instead he watched Smith come back with a bottle of lube. While Trott was busy slicking his hand, Smith sat on the bed closer to Ross’ head. Furtively, he reached out and squeezed Ross’ hand. Ross squeezed back, smiling at the lazy, content expression on Smith’s face.

“Alright, sunshine, since you’ve been so good for us…” Trott dropped a kiss to Ross’ back. His wet fingers were already stroking Ross’ cock. They slid easily over his skin. Ross moaned, arching his back and trying to move into the touch. 

“We’re going to show Sips how loud you are.” Trott’s fingers moved teasingly in circles, from the base of his cock over his balls. They barely pressed into him, just fingertips teasing at his hole.

“Please, Trott,” Ross whimpered.

“Please, what?” Trott raised his eyebrows.

“Please, _sir,_ god, please.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you inside me.” Ross moaned, a deep and long sound as Trott’s first finger moved into him. It felt agonizingly slow, and not enough.

“Hold still,” Trott said, even as he pushed another finger inside.

Ross groaned, trying not to rock himself back on Trott’s hand. He dropped his head between his arms.

“That’s it,” Trott said, his voice full of approval.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ross panted as Trott’s fingers scissored inside him.

“You want me to fuck you, sunshine?” 

“Please, please,  _ fuck _ _,_ please sir please!”

Smith and Sips watched with rapt attention as Trott knelt behind Ross. Trott teased him, rubbing his cock against Ross’ ass. He slid himself against Ross’ buttocks, then against the sensitive skin at the inside of his thigh.

When Trott finally pushed into him, Ross dug his face into the pillow to smother his shout. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, yes  please... god  Trott sir please -” The metal rings connecting the cuffs to the spreader bag clinked as Ross moved without thinking. He struggled for a moment before stilling himself.

The first few thrusts, Trott moved with excruciating slowness. Ross trembled beneath him with suppressed longing and excitement. His cock ached, and Ross wanted to someone to touch him. 

Trott began to move, each thrust coming faster. Skin slapped against skin, and he breathed hard as he gripped Ross’ hips hard enough to bruise. Ross whimpered and begged, his words blurring together as he began to pant. 

Ross cried out when Sips’ hand settled firmly on his cock, stroking him. Trott and Sips exchanged a glance, and Trott grinned, fiercely delighted. Smith grabbed Ross’ hand again, holding it tight. Overwhelmed by the touch and attention, Ross came with a loud, startled moan into Sips’ hand. 

“That’s it, Ross,” Trott encouraged. He could feel Ross shaking, barely holding himself up beneath Trott’s movements. The way he shuddered and tensed pulled Trott over the edge. His hips moved faster, thrusts losing their rhythm as he came. With his head thrown back, Trott slammed himself a final few times into Ross. 

Smith handed Sips the towel across Ross’ back. Trott held himself buried deep in Ross, exhausted and satisfied. He stroked his hands over Ross’ hips and over his back, soothing him as Trott murmured quiet praise.

When they uncuffed Ross from the headboard, he curled straight into Smith’s embrace. With gentle hands, Trott smoothed his hair while Sips released him from the spreader bar. He leaned in close to them, his words too soft for Sips to hear on the other side of the bed. Giving them a moment of privacy, Sips stepped out of the room.

Trott watched Ross bury his face into Smith’s neck.

“You good, sunshine?” he asked. Ross nodded, snuggling into Smith. He hooked a leg over Smith’s. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Smith said quietly. His fingers splayed over Ross’ back, holding him close. This was really his favorite thing, the way sex made both Ross and Trott more willing to cuddle and just relax. He liked it best when they could all lay together, draped around and across each other.

Trott carefully checked Ross’ wrists for bruises from the cuffs. He knew Ross had a habit of twisting his hands round. Smith blinked sleepily at him, watching. Satisfied that they were both coming down gently, he tucked a blanket around them.

“I’ll just be right outside a minute, if you need me.” He kissed Smith’s temple.

“Come back soon?” Smith whispered, reaching up for him. 

“I will.” Trott kissed Smith’s fingers.

On the terrace, Sips handed Trott a glass of calvados, and they relaxed in a companionable silence with their drinks. The curtains were open, the bedside lamp on and casting a golden glow on the edge of the terrace. It was quiet aside from the ever present sound of the ocean, and the call of a bird somewhere out in the darkness. 

“Cheers.” Trott clinked his glass against Sips.

“Cheers,” Sips echoed. 

Trott drained the glass, feeling weariness settle into his limbs. The calvados burned pleasantly, something warm and summery in the sensation.

“Bed for me,” he murmured quietly. Pausing, Trott studied Sips. “Thank you,” he said at last.

“Anytime, Trott, anytime.” Sips clapped him on the shoulder, companionable and easy. “Good night.”

Trott watched him disappear across the terrace into his room. The light flicked on, and then off. He imagined Sips, sprawled diagonally across his bed. 

In their room, Smith lifted his head from the pillow. Trott shut the door, and left his empty glass on the table beside the other one. He turned out the lights.

“He’s asleep,” Smith whispered when Trott slipped under the sheets next to them.

“You should be, too.”

“I was waiting for you.” 

Trott spooned up against Smith, one arm folded beneath his head and and the other around Smith’s waist. His fingers brushed Ross’ bare skin where he slept curled up against Smith’s chest. Relaxing in the warmth of their tangled bodies, Trott closed his eyes. 

“Are you happy?” Smith asked, his voice barely a whisper. Trott shifted to kiss Smith’s shoulder.

“Happier than I ever imagined being,” Trott answered.


End file.
